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 9, 2018 16:28:27 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.
For this challenge, the prompt is: NOT AGAIN. Happy drabbling!
Post by Lisa Deanna King on Jul 10, 2018 16:44:12 GMT
She was feeling more scatter-brained recently. Less in control. For other people that may not have been an issue, but for Lisa being in control was imperative. Not around her housemate, of course - Liv and she had seen each other in any and every state imaginable since they were eleven. But they weren't eleven anymore, and she wasn't with Liv right now. She was at the office, and somehow at no point during getting up, leaving the house nor on the 8 mile run she'd done this morning had she thought 'hey, remember last night when you went through all the clothes you keep in your office to take some home to clean and realised you'd run out of fresh underwear'.
So now here she was, wrapped in a towel in her office bathroom trying to decide which skirt would most cover the fact that her arse would be bare underneath. Again.
She really needed to set a fucking reminder on her quiv.
The glowing red numbers seared into his retinas as he squinted and blinked himself into consciousness.
03:07
A jolt of comprehension hit him as the clock ticked over, and a loud yell from the hallway confirmed his suspicion.
“JORDAN – NOW!”
Not again.
He swung his legs around and leapt off his bed. It was lucky he’d slept inside tonight. Lately, he’d been finding it difficult to sleep boxed in by the house, so had taken to flying off to roost in the national park to the south of their bungalow. In here, all he could smell was bricks and mortar and dust; out there, he could breathe.
If his parents had known, they’d probably have charmed the doors and windows shut.
He ran into the hallway where he could hear the familiar cracks of apparition start to fizzle in outside. A cry of agony told him someone had splinched. It happened most often if the suits had been tipped off and they’d dropped everything to come running.
So someone had snitched.
And now Baggy was running through the hallway at 3 in the morning. Running to –…uh… get to the crawlspace. Yes. Just get to the football in the crawlspace.
His brain worked in overdrive trying to wake up enough to process what was happening around him without any lag.
He vaulted over a small dresser and launched himself at a sharp corner in the hallway - grabbing a nearby door-handle on his left to direct himself towards an offshoot in the hall - and landed just in front of the crawlspace trapdoor. Manoeuvring around small rooms and houses had sort of become a forte of Baggy's. At a very young age, he'd learnt how to move quickly and with surgical accuracy.
A loud crash behind him made him flinch. Too close.
Throwing open the trapdoor, he let his arms move instinctually towards the football and immediately felt the distinctly unpleasantly portkeyesque sensation of being flushed down a drain.
Suddenly, somewhere in the Blue Mountains, just outside of Sydney, an 11-yr-old boy appeared out of the ether, dropped an old football, turned into an eagle, and flew into the mid-morning sky.
WORD COUNT: 371 NOTES: the foreign student has an interesting past
[attr="class","runrunlyric"] dreaming of[break]black & white
[attr="class","runrunpost"]
As the twelve-year-old crossed back into King's Cross Station, her eyes searched the vicinity. Parents of Hogwarts students stood at various posts, waiting for their children that they hadn't seen since Christmas. Rue's father, of course, wasn't there. [break][break]
Instead, one of his associates - a slender, tall woman with rich brown hair - waved at her, standing alongside her own child who she'd already found. Rue gulped and went over to her, faking a return hug to the woman. Everything was about appearances. They turned and exited the train station, with Rue dragging her heavy trunk behind her all the way. [break][break]
"You'll be going home today, he just didn't want to come get you. Rough night," the woman told her as they got into the cab. Rue remained silent in the backseat, simply nodding at her words. The woman's child, whom Rue didn't recognize, was quiet as well as he sat next to her. They exchanged glances occasionally throughout the ride, though they never spoke. The other child didn't so much as return Rue's faint smile, an indication that he felt similarly; that Hogwarts was their true home. [break][break]
She was dropped off at the edge of the forest and it was at that point that Rue couldn't help the tears that welled in the corners of her eyes. She watched as the cab drove away, and she wondered if the cab driver might turn back around for her. As it disappeared over the hill, she knew it wouldn't. [break][break]
Rue sighed and began dragging her trunk through the woods, collecting pine straws underneath it as it went, which made the journey more difficult. After several minutes, the run-down, makeshift shack that her father called their home came into view, situated among the trees in a small field. She felt her heart beating fast within her chest as she approached it. Rue closed her eyes as her fingers clasped the door handle, her breathing stifled. Just as she was about to turn it, the door swung wide open, knocking her back. She touched the base of her spine with her hand as she sat, looking up into the face of the beast-like man towering over her. [break][break]
After being told it was her own fault she fell, Rudina entered the home, leaving a trail of pine straw across the wood floor - not that you could tell, though, from the other debris scattered all over the place. As she entered her room, she dropped her trunk on the floor and collapsed onto the bed. The dark room, lit only by the light seeping in from the square skylight on the ceiling, welcomed her home. She closed her eyes as a tear stung her cheek, wishing autumn leaves to make their appearance soon.
Post by Charlotte Longbottom on Jul 12, 2018 21:39:47 GMT
NOT AGAIN SPRING - GREAT HALL
She caught herself in the great hall. Again. There was nothing inordinately about the day, some work some play, meetings for fwab that Dom was going over touching points next to her, Miles quietly mulling. Well it was a little odd some of the looks he gave her but other than that a normal day as they ate their dinner and something else ate at her mind.
They were ghost touches. Burning marks on her neck and shoulders that she swore would cause scorching marks in her robes. Breezes that were crude and soft, almost a tease of pressure that could have and might have. Reminders of something else that ate at her- no not again. Her eyes pulled away any sight from the Potter that sat back turned a table away with his mates. Hoping that his torments of memories would go away once he was out of eye sight, opting to focus on talks of fundraising parties instead. She could still feel the burn.
Post by Christian George Fraser on Jul 13, 2018 10:32:03 GMT
It feels like hours since he first entered the forbidden forest. It probably has been. He'd hidden for a while, staying as still and as quiet as possible after climbing halfway up a tree - his wand held tight in readiness. The trees provided good cover. Unfortunately not just for him.
He'd stayed there as long as he'd dared. His assailant creeping closer in the shadows. A flashing light in the near distance was all it had taken for him to bolt.
He's not sure how long he's been running for at this point, but it feels like its been a while. His lungs are actually burning and its his main indicator - he's not exactly unfit. There's a loud snap behind him. He picks up the pace.
The gaps between the trees are getting smaller as he runs deeper into the woods. Dodging low hanging branches and trying desperately to avoid protruding roots under foot. He can hear his heartbeat loud in his ears, his breathing uneven in panic. He stumbles more than once.
Eventually he comes to a clearing and takes pause. He's listening carefully trying to work out if he's still in danger. The silence is deafening. And then it starts.
"Duck."
It comes from his right and he turns his head sharply towards it, his body following almost instantly on instinct.
"Duck."
This one is louder, but it comes from the other side. As he turns to look a dark shadow moves between the trees maybe 6 feet into the growth.
His heart rate rises.
The ducks keep coming from various points at varying distances. He's trying to follow them all and there are more shadows. Six figures, at least, all running in different directions at different paces. He curls up into himself, crouching on the ground with his arms wrapped around his knees. The voice gets closer. His eyes fall shut, tightly.
Christian wakes up with a jolt, eyes wide, chest heaving, and panting like a fucker. He really needs to remember to stop drinking coffee before bed.
Post by James Sirius Potter on Jul 18, 2018 13:21:20 GMT
NOT AGAIN christmastime - potter residence
Ginny Potter had never been naturally domestic, in the sense that her maternal nature didn't manifest itself in the likeness of the mothers on the covers and between the pages of Magical Home & Garden magazine, with their sparkling marble counter-tops, effortlessly prepared meals, and perfectly poised blankets thrown over the arms of blemish-free couches. The Potter home was much in the likeness of the mood of its inhabitants, comfortable in its scattered haphazardness.
In the wake of widowhood, the desire for more complete control had taken his mother, whose sister-in-laws and cousins and friends had enveloped her in love and the advice to take up hobby and be not idle, whose own suggestions were so misinformed to be given to their recipient, but were the only suggestions available to their limited experience with trauma.
You should really try baking! Yum!
The smells of cinnamon and fruit were almost always truly deceptive, as once teeth were sunk into the charmed cherry tarts, it was hard to resist the natural urge to return the treat from whence it came. He thought she might set the obsession aside after a few failures, but he sat once again at the kitchen table, having prayed for the miracle of something bearable, only to return a weak smile towards his mother's excited fingertips, wiggling in anticipation. So?
"They're...yeah! Good!" Even the most practiced of liars would have found it hard to deceive such a radical instinct of disgust, and they too would have experienced the drooping features of Ginny Potter as she began to dissolve before their eyes. But none would react so fast as her child, springing from his seat to wrap his weeping mother in a tight hug, nervously babbling his way toward a moment of reprieve, simultaneously punishing himself with internal insult for being completely incapable of deceit. "Aw, come on, Mum. It doesn't matter if you're shit at baking. It's ok. I know...it's ok........it's ok."
Post by Nikolette I. Abercrombie on Jul 18, 2018 13:35:41 GMT
NOT AGAIN SPRING - GIRLS' LOO
Niko Abercrombie is a PIG.
STONER LOSER.
Doesn't eat to be skinny thinking it'll make her pretty.
Demon twin, should have stayed in the fucking womb.
Niko tilted her head to the side as she buttoned the top of her trousers, squinting so she could make out the last few words scratched into the door of the dimly lit loo. Rolling her eyes, out of obligation to herself, she pushed open the door and let it slam behind her as she exited.
Maybe tomorrow she could pee without any commentary.
Post by Tobin "Toby" Hugo on Jul 18, 2018 19:08:04 GMT
“Tooooobyyyyyy” A sharp whisper snapped Toby straight out of sleep and sent his hand to his wand. “Don’t shoot!” The voice said, and Toby shook his head, realising who it was.
“Lumos”, he muttered, and the glow from his wand lit up his brothers’ face. “What are you doing? Didn’t you go to that girl’s house?”
“Nah, didn’t fancy it at the end of the night. And what are you doing?” Drew said, gesturing towards the heavy tome of “A History of Potions and Poisons” that Toby had clearly fallen asleep while reading a few hours earlier. “Not again, Tobes. It’s a good job I’m home for Christmas to stop you from ruining your own vacation.”
“You’re just going to ruin it for me with interrupting my sleep instead?” Toby asked, half-laughing at his brother, not quite able to feign irritation. “At least the reading’s useful.”
“It’s not about useful.” Drew said, sitting on Toby’s legs. “Tomorrow night I’m going to the pub and you’re coming with me. No buts.”
Toby shook his head with a snort.
“And I’m writing this down so don’t think you’re getting away with my not remembering!” Drew continued, his voice rising to a pitch inappropriately loud for that particular hour.
“Fine,” Toby hissed. “Now go to bed before you break someone.”
Post by Jasper M. Kirke on Jul 19, 2018 10:53:57 GMT
When Jasper and Lily approached the table, it was Christian who looked up and saw them first, so it was him who groaned, "Oh for fuck's sake mate, not again."
Jasper had kind of expected that sort of reaction - it had been a few years since he'd last rocked the look, but it hadn't exactly been warmly received then either. Dom, to her credit, looked up from her conversation at Christian's comment but didn't seem to have any sort of reaction; she just smiled briefly at their arrival, and turned back to whatever point she'd been making to Toby, sat next to her.
"It's back," Jasper announced, pulling out a chair for his wife at their table, and leaning on the back of it as she sat down. "And there's nothing you can do about it."
"I like it," Lily said, pre-empting whatever further comment Christian was going to make. As if to make her point, she leant up to caress his face a little, and let her thumb rub appreciatively at the moustache in question. Jasper smiled under her hand.
"At least I can take you two out in public this time," Christian said after taking a sip from his pint. "No-one's going to try and lock you up for making goo eyes with a girl in her Hogwarts uniform."
"She was twenty, dickhead," Jasper said, emphasising a point he'd made too many times now with a friendly kick at his mate's legs. He pointed at the drink. "Same again?"
"Sure."
Jasper almost assumed the conversation was over, when Baggy arrived and opened with, "Oh - The Cradle-Stacher is back is it?"
Christian snort-choked into his drink.
"You all suck," Jasper said, finally retreating to the bar and giving them the two fingered salute behind his head.
Post by Scarlet Taya Hansen on Jul 25, 2018 2:58:31 GMT
Warning - Contains abuse Erratically, the headlights swung down the driveway. She wished he would crash into one of the Ornamental Cherry trees. Maybe it would wake him up. Maybe he would never wake up again. But that was a horrible thought to think about her child’s father. Her hand smoothed over the gentle bump under her flowy shirt. Their circle didn’t know yet. He did. Taya could already tell that he was drunk. How drunk would depend on how his meeting this evening had gone. The house was clean. Everything was carefully in its place. As it must be if she wanted him to simply go to his room and sleep off the poison. It was the poison of alcohol that changed him. He was so different after their first year. Of course. Their first year hadn’t been roses. He’d slowly cut her off from her family and what few friends she had until he and his circle were the only people in her life. But that would change, her eyes turned to her belly. The child wasn’t viable yet but she’d already found out the gender. A little girl. Her name would be Leilani, though the name she would tell the world would be Leila. Taya could barely contain her excitement to meet her child. She sang to her child when she was alone, cradling her hands over the miniature bump. The door opened with a bang. Not again. He wasn’t going to sleep right away. Taya trembled, afraid to go meet him but afraid that he would be angry if she didn’t. Some days seeing her could calm him. Other days, he was already mad at her. Her hesitation proved to be her downfall. “Scar!” “Yes, Dear?” She called out, making her way towards the door with trembling hands. Diffusing the situation was her only hope. His eyes fell on her. Fell on the flowy shirt she wore. “Getting fat.” He commented with daggers. “I’m pregnant….” She trailed off helplessly. “Lot of good that does me.” Taya couldn’t answer him. Didn’t her mother tell her that men wanted heirs? Or was it that they only wanted male heirs. Which was stupid. This wasn’t the sixties. Was he so old fashion that he only wanted a boy? Taya didn’t even need to answer that thought. She already knew it. He only wanted a boy who would go on to make a name for himself and keep making more money. He made a noise of disgust. She couldn’t even brace for the blow that hit her cheek. “I knew when I married you that you were stupid. I just didn’t realize you were this stupid. Get rid of it and try again. Get it right this time.” “A girl isn’t bad. We can try for a boy next.” She offered in a mumble. His snort of derision was her only answer before the next blow hit. She curled around her stomach, vainly attempting to protect her child. But she couldn’t. It only stopped when he tired and stumbled his way to his bed and fell into it. Taya’s eyes stung with the tears she cried. She crawled away, finding a dark and hidden closet to sequester herself in just in case he woke up again. Maybe she should go to the hospital? But the thought made her tremble in fear. He would know. They would all know and then he would be mad again. Dread coated her as her midsection tightened rhythmically and painfully. Tears started as she mourned the end of a beginning as she felt the beginning of the end.