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Yes, I am a H/D-shipping fairy.

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Quote Avana Beantwoordbullet Onderwerp: Engelse One-shots
    Geplaatst op: 01 oktober 2012 om 14:50

Engelse HP One-Shots

Als er een topic is voor Engelse Non-HP verhalen, dan mag Engelse HP fanfiction natuurlijk niet ontbreken ;)

De regels zijn eigenlijk hetzelfde;
-    Flubberwurmen kunnen hier nog niet posten; zij moeten wachten tot ze Dreuzel zijn, of in een team
-    Dreuzels mogen wel hun Engelse one-shots posten, maar er geldt voor hen een maximum van vijf
-    Voor iedereen die strijdt voor één van de teams geldt deze restrictie niet. Jullie mogen gewoon hier
     verhalen posten en punten claimen in het ’Schrijf voor Teampunten-topic’
-    De lengte van je oneshots is gemiddeld groter dan 400 woorden per post.

Nog vragen? Stel ze gerust in het Vraag-maar-raak-topic, m’n kantoortje of per pm.

V: Oneshots die al in het Nederlands geschreven zijn, maar vertaald worden, tellen deze ook als teampunten?
A: Nee, dat is niet de bedoeling. Het topic voor Engelse oneshots is in het leven geroepen om in het Engels geschreven verhaaltjes te posten. Geen vertalingen van verhalen die hier al gepost zijn, en natuurlijk ook niet om dubbele teampunten te scoren ;)

V: Engelse one-shots komen niet in aanmerking om one-shot van de maand te worden?
A: Nee.

Wat houdt Draco's taakstraaf in? En welke ernstige gevolgen heeft Juvie's geklungel?
Lees het in WW ho 48: De Verspilling van Jean Excellente.
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Yes, I am a H/D-shipping fairy.

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Quote Avana Beantwoordbullet Geplaatst op: 03 oktober 2012 om 08:46
*bijt de spits af*

A/N: Written as a gift for Jeremy whose prompt was ‘redhead’. He's a big fan of Ron but since I simply can not slash Ron, I just included Harry & Draco xD
I don't pretend to be very good in English writing so you're very welcome to point out any mistakes I made. Just send an pm :')
Summary: Ron overhears a very disturbing conversation between Harry and Draco.


When nobody answered his knock on the backdoor, Ron carefully opened it and stepped inside. There was no one in the kitchen, but he heard familiar voices from  the back room. Remembering the last time he’d barged in – he still had nightmares from that sight – he hesitated by the door. A loud voice in the other room startled him.
‘Hey, careful with the Walnut roots!’ Malfoy’s voice sounded warningly. ‘We want to keep her from escaping, not changing the way she views the world.’
‘Are you sure this is the right thing to do?’ Harry asked.
‘Are you questioning my ability to make a decent potion?’ Draco replied. He cursed and Ron heard that he threw something on a table. ‘That damn knife!’
Bloody hell, Ron thought, what in Merlin’s name is going on? He didn’t know who Malfoy – they – held hostage, but he didn’t care; he had to do something. Anxious he leaned in and listened, while he reached for his wand.
‘No, of course not,’ his friend responded. ‘But maybe we could try talking to her.’
‘You know that wouldn’t work. She’s to smart for that, Harry!’
Even Ron heard the sigh.
‘Yeah, I know. I just hoped it wouldn’t get that far.’ He sounded defeated and Ron wondered how long Harry had been ordering around.
‘I’ll go get the redheads and you’ll sharpen the knifes.’
The redheads?
Ron finally couldn’t take any more. He pushed the door open and barged inside, his wand in his outstretched hand.
‘You keep away from my family, Malfoy!’ he shouted.
‘Ron, wait,’ he heard Harry tried to interfere. But he didn’t listen and continued to the surprised looking blond: ‘I don’t know, why you’d want to poison us after the way we welcomed you and Harry and I don’t know why Harry would want to help you. You have him under Imperio, do you? You sick bastard!’
A slow smirk appeared around Malfoy’s lips and Ron saw red. He raised his wand.
‘Expelliarmus!’ His wand flew right in Harry’s outstretched hand and Ron wanted to jump right after it and maybe knock some sense into his friend.
‘I know you Gryffindors act before you think, but if you’ll look at this, we can explain,’ Malfoy drawled. Ron looked warily at the book that came floating to him, but caught it anyway.
‘It’s a book, Weasley! I’m sure you’ve seen them sometimes while making out with Granger?’ Malfoy mocked him.
Ron threw him a nasty look, but started reading anyway.

… When the potion has simmered for two hours, you add 24 petals of the Asclepias Curassavica (“Redheads”), which you’ve chopped with a silver bladed knife. Slowly stir 12 times counter-clockwise. The potion ought to be turning a dark shade of purple.
When treating confusion, give the patient one dose every four hours. Give one every hour if you treat escapism.

His eyes lingered on the last word. He thought about his sister, who didn’t cope very well with her ex-boyfriend leaving her for Malfoy and who had evidently become more and more dependent on Dreamless Sleep Potion.
Slowly he raised his head, a fiery red colouring his cheeks, and said to Malfoy: ‘You go get those… flowers, I’ll help Harry.’


Wat houdt Draco's taakstraaf in? En welke ernstige gevolgen heeft Juvie's geklungel?
Lees het in WW ho 48: De Verspilling van Jean Excellente.
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Quote Avana Beantwoordbullet Geplaatst op: 14 oktober 2012 om 09:36

written for the prompt 'Distraction'.
Warning(s): It's an eighth year fic, so completely ignoring the epilogue. And it's slash (a)
Summary: There is something about Malfoy. And it’s distracting Harry.

Soft Hair and a Velvet Tongue

Despite himself, Harry couldn’t stop looking at it. Throughout his eighteen years, he’d questioned his insanity sometimes on a daily basis, but this obsession was something else completely.
Hermione had told him that it was just sixth year all over again, but Harry disagreed. This time he didn’t think Malfoy had evil plans and he certainly didn’t follow the Slytherin everywhere to see what he was up to, he’d said.
‘No, but you just keep staring at him, mate, and that’s just as wrong,’ Ron had said with a shudder.
Harry, however, couldn’t explain it to them. He didn’t want Hermione to start analysing this obsession he’d gotten. And he certainly didn’t want to see the look on Ron’s face if he told him that he was fascinated by the little white blond hairs he’d seen on Malfoy’s once-smooth chin all of a sudden during the Quidditch match last week.
Not in the least because that sight had made him wonder if those patches of hair would be as soft as they looked. The thought had been like a Bludger to the head. Literally!
By the time he’d managed to get back on his broom, Malfoy had held the Snitch in his outstretched hand for the first time ever in a match against Harry. His eyes had shined with pride and he’d held his chin up high, giving Harry a close look at the soft-looking hairs again.

Now, almost a week later, he was still looking – staring actually – at Malfoy’s chin. In every class they now shared as eighth years and during meals when it was impossible to see something all the way across the Great Hall.
Harry wondered why Malfoy wouldn’t spell the facial hair away. Was he afraid it would become more abundant and coarser, vain git that he was? Or did he deliberately let it grow? But why? He tried to imagine the Slytherin with a stylish goatee, which would undoubtedly call attention to his lips.
The mental picture haunted him for the rest of the day. How would it feel against someone’s fingers? If someone were to stroke their lips alongside those soft hairs? If Malfoy would kiss someone?
The thought of Malfoy and kissing at the same time wasn’t nearly as disturbing as it should be, and wasn’t that scary by itself?

The notion distracted him long enough for him to have lost the way back to Gryffindor tower. Irritated with himself, he turned around to find a shortcut to the seventh floor and … froze.
‘Potter,’ a familiar voice drawled. Malfoy had stepped out of the shadows and stood right before him. Harry tried not to look at the Slytherin’s chin or mouth, but the alternative were those silver-grey eyes that watched him intensely. But Harry noticed there was a lack of the usual malice.
‘M-Malfoy,’ he reacted.
‘It has come to my attention that you’ve been acting very weird since you’ve taken a Bludger to the head.’ Malfoy cocked an eyebrow and Harry watched in fascination as the action made the little blond hairs above his eye move.
‘Potter?’ Malfoy sounded curious, and almost – well, it couldn’t possibly be worried, could it?
‘Weird? Me? There’s nothing weird!’ Harry said defensively. ‘What do you want from me, Malfoy?’
The Slytherin stuck his chin in the air in a mock-offended manner and Harry’s eyes immediately strayed off again.
‘You’re acting weird again, Potter.’ Malfoy didn’t move, though, and Harry didn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off the fine, blond hairs he saw up close. Just in time he managed to keep his hand from reaching out and touching.
‘It’s – I’ve been noticing – Are you growing a beard?’ he blabbered. He felt his cheeks flush and closed his eyes in horror.
‘What?’ Malfoy sounded incredulous. ‘You noticed my –?’
‘Well, I just did, okay! No big deal. Probably lots of people have.’ Harry didn’t dare look Malfoy in the eyes. ‘It just looks different. Than mine, that is. Softer, I mean.’
Harry didn’t even notice this time that he unconsciously had lifted his hand again until he almost touched Malfoy’s face.
Oh Merlin, now would be a very good time for the floor to swallow me!
He wanted to move, to run away, but he just stood there, his hand lingering in mid-air.
Harry waited for something to happen. A sneer, a spiteful laugh, a punch; anything.
When finally something did happen, it was none of those things. Malfoy took Harry’s hand and brought it to the side of his face, Harry’s thumb against his chin.
Shocked, Harry’s head snapped up and startled green eyes met grey ones.
‘Is it?’ The challenge in Malfoy’s voice contradicted the insecurity Harry saw in his eyes for just a moment. He started moving his digit over the wonderful soft hairs and asked absent-mindedly: ‘Is it what?’
He felt the skin move under his thumb when Malfoy clarified: ‘Is it softer?’
‘I – yeah,’ Harry breathed.
He hesitated for a moment but then stepped closer and tentatively stroked with his lips against the soft little hairs on Malfoy’s chin. The Slytherin gasped and Harry felt how his blood was running faster through the vein under Harry’s thumb. Then a strong hand in his hair pulled his head backwards a bit until they could look each other in the eye again.
Time seemed to have stopped. There were no masks this time. Harry felt like Malfoy could look right into his heart. Yet he had no desire to shut his feelings down, whatever they were.
He didn’t know what Malfoy saw in his eyes, but suddenly the Slytherin captured his mouth and kissed him. When Harry let out a surprised gasp, Malfoy took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside Harry’s mouth and slide it against his. Harry whimpered and the sound only seemed to encourage Malfoy. The fingers in Harry’s hair tightened and he felt an arm wrap itself around his waist and pull him closer.
They stood there for Merlin knows how many minutes, kissing and touching, before they desperately needed some air.
‘Just as soft as I imagined,’ Harry said and he gave a little smile.
The Slytherin smirked before he leaned in and whispered seductively in Harry’s ear: ‘Imagine how it must feel on the rest of your body.’

Wat houdt Draco's taakstraaf in? En welke ernstige gevolgen heeft Juvie's geklungel?
Lees het in WW ho 48: De Verspilling van Jean Excellente.
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Quote Elijah. Beantwoordbullet Geplaatst op: 18 december 2012 om 19:10
Jeetje, wat erg dat ik nu pas zie dat dit topic bestaat! Shocked
Hoe dan ook, eigenlijk schrijf ik nooit in het Engels. Ik heb echter ooit voor een wedstrijd van The Leaky Cauldron een artikel over Loena's huwelijk geschreven (als Rita Pulpers). Je kon toen een toverstok winnen, maar helaas ben ik niet bij de eerste drie geëindigd. Misschien was het Engels toch niet zo super (a)


The marriage between Luna Lovegood, one of Harry Potter’s closest friends, and Rolf Scamander isn’t one out of love, Rita Skeeter writes.
The Daily Prophet has laid hands on some irrefutable evidence clarifying that Xenophilius Lovegood, editor of The Quibbler and father of the bride, has paid his daughter the weight of an Erumpent in Galleons to seduce and get married to the grandson of the famous magizoologist Newt Scamander.
Adding on, your shrewd correspondent has been able to talk to some inside sources. They state that Mr. Lovegood is extremely interested in the many secret diaries Rolf Scamander has inherited from his grandfather. Apparently, the journals contain information on a lot of animals yet to be discovered. A journalist of The Quibbler revealed that his editor hopes to use Newt Scamander’s research to locate the natural habitat of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. To obtain that goal, it seems that Luna Lovegood’s happiness in life is of inferior importance.
‘Xenophilius has never been in his right mind when it comes to Fantastic Beasts. Everyone who runs counter to his beliefs, is blocked out,’ says Catharina Cackles, former reporter of the Quibbler. ‘When I proved him that there are no such things as Nargles, he fired me straight away. I’d never thought he’d use his own daughter in his search for imaginary creatures, but then again: he doesn’t know his limits when he’s after one of those animals.’
Xenophilius Lovegood didn’t want to react to this accusation, but he did threaten to set a swarm of Wrackspurts on us if we dared to publish this rubbish. To the clever correspondent, this speaks volumes.
It leaves Rolf Scamander’s well-wishers with nothing more than hope that this illuminating, yet painful news opens the eyes of the great magizoologist’s grandson before next Saturday’s wedding.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
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Quote PKlovesDW Beantwoordbullet Geplaatst op: 27 december 2012 om 21:48
*Hapt naar adem*. Ships, ben net iets te laat voor Kerst, maar whatever.

Hot Chocolate

"Draco, please. Let's head back home."

Draco turned to him, a beaming smile on his face. "Oh, come on, Harry! Where is your Christmas spirit?"

Harry grumbled something under his breath. "But it's snowing." He wobbled at the end of his sentence, but Draco quickly straightened him.

"Come on, Potter. You've encountered much worse than a bit of snow and some ice-skating. Though I must admit that I try to think from which planet you could possibly come from, since you can't even do something as trivial as ice-skating."

Harry clenched his jaw and decided to let the comment go. "C'mon. We've been here for hours. Aren't you getting tired? Or cold?"

He cocked his head, looking back at the miserable dark haired man. A fond smile made his lips quirk up. "Oh, all right. You big spoilsport. Come on. We'll pull off our skates before we Apparate."


"This is nice," Draco murmured, wrapped in a blanket, his head on Harry's shoulder. In his right hand he delicately balanced a mug of hot chocolate. The fire was blazing in the hearth, and Draco finally realised how cold it had been outside while they were ice-skating. "I must admit, Harry, that your idea has some merit. This is a great way to spent Christmas." He looked up, an amused smile playing on his lips.

Harry looked down, brow cocked. "Draco Malfoy, are you actually implying I have good ideas? And that it's a great way to spent Christmas together? My, we are getting soft this time of year."

Draco reached up and tangled his hand in Harry's hair, pulling him down for a short kiss. He gently pulled away, hand still in the mop of hair, lips millimetres apart. "Now, don't go around saying such things. I don't want my reputation ruined because you went about screaming at the top of your lungs how Draco Malfoy is a softy on Christmas. And besides, it would ruin the thought of Christmas if I were cool and distant."

Harry just smiled and leaned in for another kiss, humming as he did so. "You want another cup?" he murmured against the blond's lips. Draco smiled against Harry's lips, and thrust the mug against his chest.

"Who am I to refrain someone else from doing manual labour? I would love some more."

Harry got up with a roll of his eyes. "And here I thought you could behave. That you would behave. Why doesn't it surprise me." He mockingly clucked his tongue, and ducked when Draco threw a pillow at his head. "Hey! Watch that, or I'll make sure you'll be the one making chocolate milk."

Draco just threw him a smirk and tugged the blanket tighter around himself. "You won't because you love me too much, you brute. And don't forget to add the whipped cream!"

Harry smiled fondly, hands working on two steaming cups of hot chocolate. He got the fresh whipped cream from the refrigerator and added a generous amount to their mugs, before he returned to the living room and handed Draco his cup.

"Thanks," the blond said, and he moved the blanket back so Harry could sit in the warm depths, the light of the fireplace flickering over his face. "Mmm," he hummed, before he laid his head back down on Harry's shoulder, looking in the flames.

Harry turned his head and kissed the top of the blond's head. "Merry Christmas, Draco."

Draco turned his head and gave Harry a proper kiss. "Merry Christmas, too, Harry. Merry Christmas…"
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Quote PKlovesDW Beantwoordbullet Geplaatst op: 14 februari 2013 om 23:47
Hihi, na het thema kerst kan het thema Valentijn niet wegblijven natuurlijk ^^.

Be My Valentine?

Want to do something fun for Valentine's? Walk to the tree we first kissed under.

Don't forget to wear a coat and gloves!

Draco snorted and tossed the little paper away. Really. As if he would leave to walk in the cold without appropriate clothing. Sighing, he got out of bed and got dressed, shivering as he did so. After a last longing look at the warm bed, he turned the doorknob and walked out, yawning as he did so. Scratching his head, he sighed and put on a warm coat and some thick gloves.

As he opened the door, he noticed it was snowing for the first time. Burrowing down in his coat against the harsh wind, he stalked forward, walking in a brisk pace. His stride was quick and to the point, light and silent. The snow crunched under his feet, making him grimace. How he hated Winter.

Nearing the weeping willow, a smile touched his face. Nostalgia swept over him like a gentle wave, its tendrils warm and soothing. A year ago now they stood under the very same tree.

It wasn't snowing at the time, but it was cold, and they were huddled together for warmth. Harry had grinned shyly up at him, his hands clutched together. Draco had stared ahead of him, stone-faced, as he grabbed Harry's hand, warming it in his own. Harry's next grin was contagious, and soon Draco smiled back at him. Harry was one of the few persons who could make him smile. As Harry shuffled closer, Draco put his head on his shoulder, gazing at the little cottage in the distance. Snow clung to its roof, making it look almost fairy-tale like in all its innocence. It made him proud of their little home. Not that it was easy, living with each other. Draco still thought the dark haired man had took him in out of pity. Though the thought was faint and barely existed. After all, after about two years you just knew something about the person you were living with.

So they stood huddled together, until Harry moved away a bit, forcing Draco to move his head from the comfortable spot. He had turned a bit and the green eyes looked and looked, and looked some more. A gloved hand reached for Draco's cheek, caressing the features. Draco had closed his eyes, a tiny smile still lingering on his lips. As he opened his eyes, he noticed they had both moved forward, and now Draco could see himself in the ever green eyes. His breath caught, before his breathing quickened, puffing clouds of air between them. Harry had smiled and finally bridged the space remaining between them. Their kiss was messy, as frozen lips could barely feel, but they warmed up quickly enough with the warmth shared between them. They lightly skated over each other, testing, looking to see what they'd find in their wake.

As they parted, Harry wore a lopsided grin. "Be my Valentine?" he'd breathed, and really, what other answer was there but yes?

But there was no Harry at the moment, and Draco frowned. A note was pinned to the tree, though, and Draco tore it off.

Getting annoyed yet? Meet me at the field.

Love, Harry.

Draco crumpled the note and let it fall on the ground, where snowflakes hungrily covered the brand new surface. As Draco trudged through the snow, he couldn't help but wonder what the silly man had prepared this time. But, as he saw a distant figure, he smiled and decided it didn't really matter.

Harry grinned sheepishly at him. "Be my Valentine?"

Draco grinned and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Like I wouldn't."

Harry grinned and kissed him shortly. "Well, since it's tradition I bring roses and chocolate, I decided to discard both. This time we'll be doing something we both like. Draco, would you like to fly with me?"

Draco laughed, his breath fogging around them, eyes shining as they landed on the green ones before him. "I'd love to."

As Harry handed over the broom, grinning like mad, Draco couldn't help but think Harry always came up with the greatest ideas. And if they were anything but ordinary, well, that was just Harry. And Draco loved every moment of it.
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Quote Joël Beantwoordbullet Geplaatst op: 17 april 2013 om 15:15

           ~ LIVING DREAMS ~

Thema: Zicht

I walked a little bit anxious towards the platform on which I would be telling the students of Hogwarts my story. It has been a little while ago since my ability to see was taken from me. Since that time I have come here every year to tell the students, not only about the Battle of Hogwarts, but also about my disability. Professor McGonagall has taken good care of me every year so I've felt at ease.
That day she was present too. She told me when I got here that professor Flitwick and Hagrid would also be present. I liked that, because I've always liked Hagrid.
'It's time,' I heard professor McGonagall whispering in my ear. 'I'll guide you to the chair.'
'Thank you,' I whispered back, while she guided me towards my chair. I noticed that the buzz in the Great Hall was slowly fading.
'Here you go,' said McGonagall. 'I'll say a few things to the students to introduce you and then you can take over.'
'Sounds great, thanks.' I heard her footsteps moving towards the front of the platform, while I sat down at my chair. Over the years, my sense of hearing has greatly improved due to my lack of eyesight.
Professor Mcgonagall scraped her throat and the Great Hall felt in silence. I heard some whispering here and there, but that didn't stop Mcgonagall from starting her introduction.
'Students of Hogwarts, I thank you for being present at this occasion. Every year an ex-student of Hogwarts that has fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and because of that, has lost his ability to see, comes to the school to tell his story. In the next hour, you can ask whatever you want, not only about the Battle of Hogwarts, but also about his disability. Any questions so far? No? Then I'll give the word to mister Finnigan.'
Still a bit nervous, I rose from my chair. 'Good afternoon, students. My name is Seamus Finnigan and as professor McGonagall has just told you, I am an ex-student of this school. I fought in the Battle of Hogwarts alongside the greatests wizards and protectors of this school. Therefore I start with thanking each and every teacher that has helped to protect this school.'
A loud clapping rose from the students. The noise echoed through the Great Hall.
'This noise, you know, it makes me feel small, but happy at the same time. Small, because I lost my ability to see during the Battle of Hogwarts. Happy, because none of you knows exactly what happened during the Battle and none of you experienced the atmosphere during the Battle, but still, you all clap... for people you don't even know, for people that have done great things. In my opinion, that's a sign of respect.'
I heard someone sobbing behind me. Listening to the sound, it must have been Hagrid.
'So, today I'll answer all of your questions. I want you to know how important the Battle of Hogwarts was for the continued existence of this school. So fire away!'
For a little while there was silence.

Probably, because nobody wants to go first.

But then I heard a somewhat squeaky voice. Although I didn't see the person, I could tell it was a girl.
'How did you lose your eyesight exactly, mister Finnigan? Was it a spell that has caused it?'
'You can say that, yes. I was running beneath an archway when I was followed by a Deatheater. He fired the Confringospell at me, but it hit the archway and so it collapsed on top of me. I passed out and was found by a friend who woke me up. Because of the collapse I suffered a head trauma and since then I have not been able to see anymore. Does that answer your question?'
Apparently the girl was nodding, because I heard professor McGonagall say: 'you need to say 'yes', dear, mister Finnigan can't see you nodding.'
I merely smiled. 'I wish I could. Anymore questions?'
After the first question, more and more were asked by the students. The hour flew by and soon it was time for the last question. This time a low voice spoke.
'Mister Finnigan, I am handicapped too and it's a real burden for me. Do you still enjoy life, mister Finnigan? Because there are a lot of things we can't do anymore because of our handicap. Do you still have goals in your life?'
'What's your name?'
'Simon, sir.'
'Simon, we are not handicapped,' I said in a reassuring voice. 'We're merely disabled to do certain things we would like to do. I do enjoy life and so should you. Of course, there are things I truly miss. I cannot see people laughing at a joke, I cannot see the persons to whom I speak, I cannot see the beautiful weather outside and so on. But does that mean I can't enjoy life? After all, I can still here your laughter, I can still hear singing birds in the early morning, the whooshing of the trees and waves and I can still feel the sunshine on my skin. I do enjoy the beauty that life gives me. It's not about the things you can't, it's about the things you can do. The fact that I cannot see does not mean my quality of life has decreased. I still have my friends from back in the days, I can still go on a holiday and I can still enjoy everything as much as before. You shouldn't give up your dreams, because you have a disability. I still remember how I lost my eyesight, it was during one of the most important Battles in history and I realize that I took part in it. I am proud of myself that I fought the evil in this world. I am proud of myself that I've protected this school for whatever it takes. If the prize of that is loss of my eyesight, then so be it. People will remember you, Simon, also if you have a disability. There are for more important things in life than being able to see, hear or walk.'
The Great Hall felt in silence during my answer to that question. I really had the feeling that I gave them something to think about. And that's my goal every time I come to Hogwarts.

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Quote Avana Beantwoordbullet Geplaatst op: 17 april 2013 om 17:40
A/N: Written for Elijah./Jeremy who gave me ‘irritation’ as a prompt.
Summary: What happened after the closing credits when they all left the platform at the end of DH2?


Draco looked in the mirror and stroked the blond tufts on his chin. He scowled when he remembered the jeery words Weasley had spouted this morning on platform 9 ¾ after the Hogwarts Express had left.
While Astoria had been nattering on about a new cloak she’d seen at Twilfit and Tatting's, the four former Gryffindors had passed. The Weaslette had secretly stolen a glimpse from behind her ginger fringe, but her brother had been as rude as always.
Loud enough for Draco to hear, he’d commented: ‘Bloody Hell! Malfoy looks just like one off those demented fauns, we saw in that movie the other day.’
‘Ron!’ Granger had hissed but the two kids had giggled. Astoria had ignored it although Draco’d known that she was extremely irritated by the way she’d marched to the barrier with her head held high. He, on the other hand, had slowed his pace.
As a result he and Potter were the last ones to go through the barrier. Draco had tried to avoid looking at him, his face still flushed an angry red, but Potter hadn’t let him.
‘Malfoy?’ The famous green eyes had looked fathomless and had held his captured. ‘You know, you don’t need it.’ And to Draco’s surprise Potter had reached out and touched his chin for a single moment. ‘You’re nothing like Lucius, even without it!’

Unintentionally his fingers brushed the skin that still seemed to quiver. He wondered how Potter knew. Not even Astoria had figured out that he only tried to look different than his father had. She just complained that it made him look so much older.
He stared at his image for minutes. His white blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. Gray eyes that could turn as cold as steel but now looked pensive. And the blond tufts on his chin, so light you could hardly see it from a distance.
You’re nothing like Lucius! Potters voice echoed softly.
There had been a look of understanding before Potter had turned and passed the barrier, which gave Draco a funny feeling even now.
… nothing like Lucius!
With a tiny smile he nodded at his reflection and reached for the enchanted razor his mother had given him for his seventeenth birthday.

376 woorden

Wat houdt Draco's taakstraaf in? En welke ernstige gevolgen heeft Juvie's geklungel?
Lees het in WW ho 48: De Verspilling van Jean Excellente.
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Quote Nigel Beantwoordbullet Geplaatst op: 23 juni 2013 om 14:51
Mogelijk aanstootgevend. Als het de regels overtreed volgens de mods zal ik hem verwijderen/mag hij worden verwijderd. Dit is overigens mijn eerste verhaal hier, reacties zijn welkom!

Thema: Afschuw


She looked at the clock, like she did every day, and saw it was already well into the afternoon. It bothered Molly that all of her children just slept all day. ‘They're so selfish’, she thought to herself. She had been up since 8'o clock, cooking for a feast in celebration of her husband's promotion. But not one of her children even bothered getting up to help her, not even her sweet little Ginny.

It doesn't matter though. The excitement of her husband's promotion was enough to make up for it. Molly couldn't help dreaming. She finally wouldn't have to worry about money all the time, she wouldn't have to cut back on all her favourite things.
She had been really depressed lately and didn’t know why. So, the letter which the ministry sent her came just at the right time.

‘It’s time to get up, and don’t make me come upstairs!’ she yelled once again.

She put the chicken in the oven and decided she might as well have some tea while she waited. She couldn’t wait to see the surprise on her husband’s face tonight. He had been on a work trip for the last couple of weeks, and she missed him a lot. But when he would come home tonight, the minister himself would be here to congratulate him! Maybe she wouldn’t feel as depressed anymore.

The chicken was done but her children still hadn’t gotten up. She decided it was time to go upstairs and wake them by force. She entered Ginny’s room first. There she laid on her bed, her sweet little girl, sleeping like an angel. How could she ever yell at her? She went to lie with her daughter and hugged her tightly.


‘Are you sure you want to come with us, minister?’ said John Dawlish carefully, he knew it could become quite dangerous.

‘Yes, yes, I must go. Arthur had always been a loyal employee, and a good friend. Besides, I already said in the letter that I would be coming’, the minister replied.

The minister, John Dawlish, and his team arrived at the Burrow.
‘It’s even worse than I expected’, the minister sighed.

They went upstairs and found Mrs. Weasley, wearing a filthy dress with holes in it, hugging the burnt corpse of her dead daughter. The whole house smelled like rotten burnt flesh.

‘Mrs. Weasley?’

She woke up and saw the minister.

‘Ah, you’re finally here minister! Let’s go to the kitchen. Don’t mind the mess, I haven’t had time to clean up yet’ Molly said while pointing to the burnt toys and furniture.

‘We must go ma’am’ the minister said anxiously.
‘But Arthur will soon be here! Besides, aren’t you hungry?’

She opened the oven and got out a rotten chicken covered with maggots.

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Quote Joël Beantwoordbullet Geplaatst op: 12 september 2013 om 11:59

          ~ DEATH OF A LOSER ~

Thema: Weken

'My servants,' Lord Voldemort hissed, 'I have called upon you, because I want to share some of my thoughts with you.' He walked alongside the table where his most precious Death Eaters were sitting. 'Good to see you, Dolohov,' he hissed, while passing the Death Eater who was sitting at the beginning of the table. 'How is the memory holding?'
'Fine, my lord,' Dolohov answered.
Voldemort then walked further alongside the table, nodding to Rookwood, Avery, Crabbe, Goyle and Mulciber until he reached the seat where Bellatrix Lestrange was sitting. He grinned. 'Of course you are here, I would not have expected anything else, Bella.'
'I am everywhere you want me to be, my lord,' Bellatrix answered, while she stood up and made a bow to her master.
Voldemort merely grinned and walked along to the far end of the table. On his way, he passed some other Death Eaters. Nott, Selwyn, Rowle, Travers, MacNair and Yaxley all received a nodd as well.
He then reached the end of the table and stood still. 'Glad to have you here, Severus. I see that you have taken a seat next to your old friend,' Lord Voldemort concluded, while pointing at the seat on which Lucius Malfoy was sitting. 'In case you need to run away fast, Malfoy?' He then said to Lucius.
A few Death Eaters were laughing and even Snape's lip curled, but the look on Lucius Malfoy's face spoke volumes. He did clearly not enjoy the remark of his master.
'Good to see all of you,' Lord Voldemort went on, while walking back to his own seat at the head of the table. 'I have been thinking a lot lately, especially about the magic that the Elder Wand has supplied me. Or, better said, should have supplied me.' He took a break and looked at his servants. Fourteen curious faces glared back at him, trying to understand what their master meant, but one person did seem to understand it perfectly.
'Would you be so kind, Severus?' Voldemort went on. 'Why doesn't the Elder Wand perform as it should be?'
Snape didn't move a muscle and merely said: 'I am not aware of how the Elder Wand works, my lord. Therefore I cannot answer your question.'
'Do not tell lies, my faithfull servant, or have you forgotten which ability I possess?'
'I am fully aware of your extraordinary skills as a Legilimens, my lord. Yet I cannot tell you why the Elder Wand does not live up to your expectations.'
Snape knew he was playing a dangerous game, because Dumbledore had told him everything he needed to know about the Elder Wand in order to make their plan work properly. Unfortunately, their plan had failed. Lord Voldemort thought that Snape was now the master of the Elder Wand, because he killed the greatest wizard of all times. But Snape knew that it was actually Draco Malfoy who was the true owner of the Deathstick. While looking Lord Voldemort right in the eyes, Snape relied on his ability as an Occlumens.
'Very well, Severus. But I already know that you are the master of the Elder Wand and I am aware of the following: the only way this wand will work properly in my possession, is if it's previous owner is defeated. You know what that means, don't you, Severus?'
'It means... that you are going to kill me eventually,' Snape said in his usual calm, but cold voice, while staring at thin air.
Lord Voldemort grinned. 'Good, Severus, very good.'
'B-but, my lord, surely you don't need to kill him? I am sure that you can find another way of restoring your wand to its full glory,' Lucius tried.
Snape glanced at his old friend and knew that Lucius was trying to save him. Snape had told Lucius that his son, Draco, was the owner of the Elder Wand. What Lucius was trying to do now, was most dangerous. If Voldemort should decide to apply Legilimency on Lucius, Draco was in grave danger. But apparently, the Dark Lord didn't care much about Lucius' statement as he merely said coldly: 'People die, Lucius. Don't interfere with things you have no knowledge of.'
'But why Severus? We can't afford us to lose any Death Eater in this room and with your magic abilities, you surely can think of something else,' Lucius tried again.
'You heard the Dark Lord, Malfoy!' yelled a harsh voice. 'Severus needs to die so our master can win this war! If that solves his problems, then we have to accept that! We can even kill him right now!'
'I won't, Bella,' Voldemort interrupted. 'Severus is of too much value for me. If I am killing someone here today, it will certainly not be Severus,' Voldemort hissed, while gazing at his least loyal Death Eater.
This time it was Snape's turn to come to aid. 'My lord, we are all aware of your outstanding magical abilities, are we not?' he asked, while turning his face to the group of Death Eaters. Approving sounds were heard at the table so Snape continued. 'You are the greatest wizard now, my lord and with that wand, you can beat the world. Even if it is not functioning at his full power. Wizards all over the world will know your name and you will become their master eventually. With that wand in your possession, you could walk straight through hell... with a smile. So surely, no one needs to die here today, my lord. You have pride, why waste it on this,' he said coldly, while pointing at Lucius.
Lord Voldemort smirked at Snape's last words. 'Such kind words, Severus,' he hissed. 'I will not disagree, I am the greatest wizard, now Dumbledore is lying dead. And I am invincible with this wand in my possession. But I know what you are doing, Severus. You are trying to save your childhood friend over here.'
'M-my lord,' Lucius' voice squeaked.
'I have been wondering lately on which side you are, Lucius,' Voldemort started, while walking slowly towards him. 'You do not seem to handle the pressure I put on you and your family.'
'I.. that... but.'
'I call that weakness, Lucius. I am not very fond of weakness. So tell me now, where do you stand in this war?' The Elder Wand was so close to Lucius's face that he had to squint to be able to see the tip of the wand. 'Before you answer, think about your wife and son for a while,' Voldemort hissed.
The tension in the room was almost scary. No one said a thing, while Lord Voldemort stood before Lucius Malfoy with his wand pointing at his forehead. Sweat poured down Lucius's face and he desperately tried to caught Snape's eyes, but Snape was looking straight forward. Lord Voldemort was enjoying the view of Lucius collapsing and decided to increase the tension a little bit by saying: 'Well, Lucius? We are all waiting. Who do you support?'
'M-my lord,' was all that Lucius was able to say.
Voldemort stepped back and smirked. 'Wrong answer, Lucius.
Avada Kedavra!'
A green flash of light hit Lucius in his face. He toppled over in his seat and slowly slipped from his chair until he hit the ground.
'Dinner time, Nagini.'

1212 woorden
Voor het promptspel waar we inspiratie moesten krijgen door de zin "
You could walk straight through hell with a smile.".

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