The newest batch of Hogwarts students have entered this historic school and no one knows how their future will turn out - will you be a quidditch pro or maybe a prefect? The year is now 2021, and now it's time for the next generation to make their mark. The newest batch of Hogwarts students have entered this historic school and no one knows how their future will turn out - and that is where the fun begins.
The plot will be determined by the characters of the site as of now - future plots will change as these forces weigh in on the Wizarding World, and we see where these characters take us. So join in and let your character make their mark!
Minimum word count is 200.
Post by Mod Jiggysnacks on Jul 16, 2019 14:15:29 GMT
plot
Hello, fellow writers!
We are back at it with another writing challenge! The concept is simple and laid out below.
Periodically, a new challenge thread will be posted. The prompt could be a word, a question, a picture, or a situation. Anything, really! You can post one drabble or "one-off" with each of your characters to the thread to share. Typically, these are short vignettes between 100 and 1000 words, but feel free to write to your heart's content however large or small. Use your creativity. Show us an angle about your character we've never seen, or a side of them you want to explore. Tell us a funny story about something that happened to them, or reveal a deep dark secret. Go back to the past or fly into the future! The possibilities are endless.
Nothing about this is mandatory, and it is purely for fun. Feel free to participate in any challenge or just be an observer. If you like someone's post, give them a like or a shout in the c-box!
Please adhere to Hell Hath No Fury writing policies when posting. If your drabbles include characters that belong to other members, run your thoughts by them. These writing challenges are a way to expand our little universe, so be open to the ideas of others, but also be respectful of other's character choices and wishes.
Post by James Sirius Potter on Jul 16, 2019 14:49:14 GMT
Paper cut late july - london
"Nice try, but nope." James was shuffling through his pockets, past his wand, the keys to his flat (new to him, ancient to London, with cracks in the walls and a leaky kitchen sink), secured around two bits of cardstock, bent awkwardly down the middle. Uh...Falmouth pitch-side seats?James rolled his eyes, becoming impatient with the guessing game that he himself initiated. "Even I can't get those, bro."
He drummed his fingers against the folded paper, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, a slick grin plastered to his face. "Come on, mate...you know this! What did I score us tickets to?" He could barely contain himself, set to burst. When he'd seen the chalkboard outside, he thought it was too good to be true. They hadn't performed since 2015!
"Brace yourself, mate!" James, in a flurry of a motion, whipped the tickets out of his pocket and shoved them into the face of his comrade, sing-screaming low lyrics into the traffic of the London evening. "TAKE YOUR WORDS AND EAT THEM, I'D SACRIFICE YOU FOR MAYHEM!"
No fucking way...no fucking way! James threw his head back and let out a roar of victory as his friend shoved him in the chest. "WAY, DUDE. WAY." So little compared to the feelings of nostalgia brought on by British muggle punk rock bands, a hearty staple in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory from their second year fully through their fifth.
They weren't far from the venue, a small club nestled in the middle of a busy London block. The chalkboard outside was barely visible through the hordes of people milling around outside, most of whom would be disappointed to hear that tickets had sold out that morning around noon, to anyone who'd been lucky enough to walk by. James Potter lived about three doors down, and had a nasty habit of smoking a joint on the street on Saturday mornings. PAPER CUT
Post by Joy Therese Sweeting on Jul 16, 2019 15:30:20 GMT
Paper cut late july - DIAGON ALLEY
The best place to be in the summer was inside an ice cream parlor, this summer especially, since it was nearly tropical on the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley. While the wizarding community could rest easy that it wasn't contributing in the least to the global, muggle epidemic of climate change, Joy's opinion, one she would never voice, cowering at the idea of a political debate, was that there was much more they could do about it, even while guilt-free.
The cool air, and hovering scent of sweetness in the air, was calming throughout the morning, as she prepared each batter with ease, the recipes so deeply kneaded into her memory that she could almost complete each with her eyes closed. It was better this way, that she just came in and did this herself. Her parents deserved the break, and it was nearly impossible to teach a fresh batch of summer teenagers, who much preferred the task of scooping and selling, seeing their friends, stealing little tastes here and there, to that of coming in at four in the morning to prepare it all.
Joy wouldn't be summering in Greece like Cece, or taking a long holiday to somewhere warm and beautiful like many of her other friends. There were times this weighed on her, like when she smacked her forehead on the freezer door while carrying four jugs of milk to the processor, or when she got another paper cut in the same spot on her thumb while tearing open bags of sugar.
But there were great mornings, quiet mornings, spent in the sweet-smelling, creamy air of the churn room, listening to classic wrock and singing along, going through the warm, familiar motions she'd known her entire life, grateful for everything that she did have, because she was wealthy in happiness.
Post by Nikolette I. Abercrombie on Jul 16, 2019 15:39:46 GMT
Paper cut MARCH - EMPTY CLASSROOM
Ouch. Her forefinger slid delicately along the edge of her rolling paper, and the thin little fucker had nicked her. Instinctively, she lifted the pad of her finger to her lips, sucking away at the dribble of garnet blood that seeped along her skin. It tasted metallic, almost, like fresh kale (the thick, fluffy kind...not the baby greens).
Removing it from her mouth, lifting it up to her left eye to examine it, she saw the slight pink of the area around the little laceration, a wet canvas for the thick blob of paint developing along it. The shabby joint was hanging between her teeth now, and her finger was pressed to the rectangular canvas in front of her, sliding along the dark curve of the subject's back, adding some perfectly-placed color to his features, and some much needed satisfaction to its painter's opinion of it.
Post by Jasper M. Kirke on Jul 16, 2019 18:57:19 GMT
Jasper did feel a bit bad that he wasn't listening at all to what Professor Morris had to say. He's sure it was very important and inspiring in that way Morris always tried to make Potions lessons - but how could he care when Anousheh Terian was sat on the bench directly in front of him. They hadn't had many other classes with the Ravenclaws this year, but as far as Jasper could tell he'd lucked out with the one they did. He could stare at he sleek, dark hair for hours if he wanted to. And sometimes - just sometimes, because she was smart and actually paid attention to what was happening in class - sometimes, she'd turn around and flash him a shy smile over her shoulder, her pretty, bright eyes entrancing him like she was trying to send him a message.
This was definitely his favourite class.
Without really thinking about it, Jasper pulled out his wand and a spare bit of parchment - he was discreet, thankfully, hidden behind the cauldron like he was, but he doubted he'd have really cared either way. With his friends, he wasn't exactly a stranger to getting in trouble with class, but he didn't much think on it at that moment. Carefully he began to slice and score, and with the little movements of his wand the cut pieces of paper curled up and fell away as a silhouette started to take form. He would have done better with drawing or painting or something, but he was in class with only his quill and ink on him, so. he had to make do. Still, he thought to himself as he admired his work, sometimes little creative challenges yielded unexpected positive outcomes.
Anousheh looked a little surprised when the parchment finally floated onto her desk - a silhouette and paper construction of a rose beginning to bloom and scrawled on the back in his hand: Hogsmeade date w/ me nxt weeknd? I promise I'll get you real flowers then. - J.
And when she turned to him again, her smile was even wider than before.
Post by Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy on Aug 23, 2019 17:29:50 GMT
Bring someone. I don't care if you bring Al in a lovely gold dress. Just. Do. Please.
Mum. I highly doubt Al would appreciate being stuffed into a gold dress. Green is more his color.
Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.
Yes, mum. Will do, mum.
You going to the ball?
He set his quiv down but couldn’t take his eyes off the device. A bubble popped up on the bottom of the screen. Bloop
Ya.
You wanna go together?
I’m already going with someone, sorry!!
Oh. Ok. Cool. have fun!
Scorpius frowned, a little hand of sadness squeezing his heart. He turned a page in his book. As he did, the page nipped the crease of his second knuckle. “Ouch!” he hissed, rubbing at the spot. It wasn’t deep but it was like adding insult to injury. With a sigh, he turned back to the book, though he could hardly concentrate. Who was she going with? He tapped in the question but erased it. He couldn’t ask without it sounding like he was jealous. Which he was. A peal of laughter called his attention to the doorway leading to the girls dorms. Roxie, grinning and jubilant, pushed a housemate playfully. A thought played in his mind. He might as well have fun if he was going to be going to the ministry ball and Roxanne Weasley knew how to have fun.
“Rooooxiiiee! Are you going to the ministry ball doohickie thing?” He sat up on the couch better. His mom would flay him for asking like an idiot. But it was Roxie. They’d been friends for forever.
She cocked her head to the side. “I don’t think so? Why?”
“Do you want to go? With me? Like… a dateish thing?” Scorpius could almost hear his mother’s tsk-tsk at his ridiculous invitation.
An amused smile touched her lips as she considered him. The smile changed to a grin. “Hell ya! Let’s go dance like idiots!”
Scorp grinned. If there was anyone he could count on to go to a party, it was Roxanne Weasley. The night was already looking far less dull.