Activity: Drabble Contest
Points: 2 points for voting.
Deadline: Voting ends Sunday at 7 PM CST.
Details: Here.

Vote for first, second and third.
Do not vote for yourself.
You don't have to be a member of the club to vote.

Entry 1 “You want anything, boy?” Aberforth asked the dark-haired boy who had been sitting at a table alone for ten minutes. “No,” the boy sneered. “It’s a bar, boy,” Aberforth replied gruffly, “Buy something or leave.” The boy looked up at him, cocky and confident. And no doubt the charm oozing around him worked on most people. What worked in Aberforth’s bar was money or sometimes contraband. The sharp eyes that looked up at him did nothing. The boy sighed, “Half a pint of your most sanitary ale.” He only pulled out coins when Aberforth waited a moment longer. But the barkeep served him nonetheless and got his due. That was how things worked in the Hogshead. “People have other things to do with their money,” the boy sneered under his breath. Aberforth said nothing. But he knew who would be interested in knowing whom Tom Riddle met. Entry 2 How to Become An Animagi [or, how unofficial Animagus training is a Hogwarts tradition.] ".. I don't think this is a good idea." Minerva McGonagall had to resist smiling. Though Sonia was the most brilliant Ravenclaw of their generation, she lacked daring. "Hey, Song.. there's no way we'll be caught. We couldn’t ask for a better time to try.” Somewhere across the dark room, a sigh could be heard. "If you say so.." Twelve tries, five books, and a near-discovery by three fellow students later, a tabby cat and a snowy owl stood face to face. If one looked closely, they almost seemed to be smiling. --- "Hey, Sirius! Where’d you disappear to? Did that spell work?" Sticking his head out from a side corridor, the dog cocked an ear and quickly headed in his friend’s direction. Unnoticed by either was a tabby cat sitting in the window. Interested, she watched the scene play out; when they left, she curled up with her thoughts. Entry 3 Tom wrinkled his nose in disdain. The shack was a mess. However, he needed someone talented at potions, and the way Severus Snape was going, the boy would be a master before he turned twenty. So he had given in, just a little, and promised that, in return for Severus’ allegiance, he would mark the dark headed wraith in the shack that changed so much for him. They called it the Shrieking Shack, and Tom had been informed by Severus that this was where Hogwarts’ resident werewolf transformed every full moon. Tom walked around the little shack, fingers touching the scars that had been left in the wood. Severus timidly entered the room from where ever the passage he took led him. He bowed in front of Tom, and the screams the villagers heard that night were not the same as the ghosts they had heard for so many years. Entry 4 She glanced up forlornly at the heavy clouds filling the sky, quickly stepping around other wizards and witches. As she made her way through the crowded streets of Hogsmeade, she pulled her gold velvet robes closer to her body to ward off the spring chill. Finally she reached her destination. Stepping inside the brightly lit sweet shop, she rubbed her hands together for warmth. "There you are Helga!" She turned swiftly and smiled up at the tall wizard before her. "Godric! Oh you wouldn't believe the mess out there..." She was cut off with a quick kiss on the lips. "Hush now, let me purchase you a sweet." He took her hand and wrapped her arm around his, leading her further into the delicious smelling shop. Entry 5 "Do you think they'll be safe?" Helga surveyed the ramshackle set of buildings. Hogsmeade didn't look like the safest place to visit, and she didn't want to endanger the students. "They can handle it." Godric peered into a dirty looking pub with interest. It was the only complete building, and that didn't recommend the town. "It'll be good for them." A troll emerged, stooping to fit through the door, and Godric stepped aside. "They'll live alongside other species as adults." Rowena studied the troll with interest. "It would be wise to teach them to coexist peacefully." There was a pause, and no one mentioned the missing voice. Helga sighed, reaching for a board jarred loose by the troll's passage, and wedged it into place. "Very well. We'll make it safe for everyone." Hands on her hips, she surveyed the town, planning. There was a lot to be done. Entry 6 They’d never expected to meet one another again. They had both thought that the memory of other life would disappear with time and that they would never again face the pain they knew in those last moments. However, travelling to a place they both once considered home, it was destiny that their paths would once again cross and that from that moment onwards they would have to face one another’s mistakes. Helena first noticed him only as a distant figure down the street from where she stood. A figure just like her; glowing, transparent and seemingly suspended just above the ground. Between the darkness of this evening and warm light of the candles placed throughout this village that was barely a century old, both of them stood out in clear contrast to their surroundings. The Baron acknowledged her silently. Helena lowered her head respectfully. This was their future from thereon. Entry 7 The Hog's Head wasn't intended to be useful. For Aberforth, it was just a job. He wasn't friendly, but no one seemed to mind: they wanted alcohol, and he wanted money. Everyone got what they wanted. Its usefulness stemmed from its bad reputation, because Aberforth never turned away anyone who had money. When the Order formed, this was to their benefit; his patrons were fairly good sources of information. Aberforth had never been the type to lend a sympathetic ear to his patrons, but he overheard things. It wasn't a bad life, all things considered. He had no last name in his bar. Most never even knew his first name; he was just the strange barkeep who took better care of his goats than his mugs. He was useful to the people who knew who he was. That was all he needed. Entry 8 Narcissa Black's new grey pumps clicked on the brick sidewalks of Hogsmeade. After another perfect potion, she decided to treat herself a shopping spree at Gladrags. She was so used to going shopping with her parents in Paris and London when she did well, but now, being 17 and of age, she decided that she was more than capable of shopping and spending galleons on her own. She watched the other students spread out and crowd into that ummm... candy shop or the uhhh... Plinko toy store. She never really cared about the shops that the other students went to. What did she need with candy and toys when her parents sent her the sweetest treats and best treasures. As she approached Gladrags she noticed that adorable blond boy from History of Magic walk in to the shop before her. This is going to be a good day. Entry 9 Helena sighed, eliciting a concerned look from her fiance. He glanced down at her and pulled her closer gently with their linked arms. She accepted the direction, though he wasn't sure it was truly out of desire or if it was apathy. More frequently, she'd been reacting by not reacting. It had come to a head at her mother's birthday just two weeks ago when her entire demeanor hadn't been quite up to the festivities. He'd pulled her aside then, and had been startled when her gray eyes were flat. "Helena?" he asked softly. "Yes?" she returned, looking up at him, eyes reflecting the snow falling around them. He shook his head, "Nothing, I just wondered if you were warm enough." She smiled then, a sad distant smile and nodded. "Yes, thank you." He smiled back as she laid her head against his shoulder. Entry 10 It’s time, Harry!” Harry Milton Potter looked up from The Daily Prophet. “What was that?” he asked. “It’s time,” grunted his wife, pressing on her swollen stomach. His mind reeled. “But— But— You’re not due for another two weeks!” Mildred rolled her eyes. “Apparently James doesn’t care.” “Annie,” Harry automatically corrected. They had been debating gender for 38 weeks now. Thirty-eight weeks, not forty. “St. Mungo’s, Harry. Now.” Harry scrambled to his feet. They were in Hogsmeade this morning Annie had woken up that morning wanting Three Broomsticks pumpkin juice. And now they were going to have a baby. Harry tried to breathe. Entry 11 “Oh, Bella,” Narcissa sighed as her sister dragged her through the snow. “What now?” Bellatrix rolled her eyes, she hated it when her sister became whiny. “It's cold, and it's snowing! My new boots will get wet,” Narcissa lifted her coat even further off the ground. “He won't care what your boots look like, Cissy!” Bella grabbed her hand and pulled her into the Hogs Head. In the corner there was a solitary, blonde male sat drinking alone. Bellatrix nodded at him. “Malfoy.” “Oh not again, Bella!” Her sister was constantly trying to set her up with the prestigious Lucius Malfoy. Lucius raised his eyebrows. “Anyone would think you didn't like me.” Entry 12 Aberforth needed a change. After the funeral he had wandered for years, trying to forget. He couldn’t finish school; he could only see it as somewhere his sister had not been allowed to see. A place she could never see, now. But for some reason he always found himself back in Hogsmeade, even if he couldn’t bear to stay within sight of the castle. He turned off the High Street and spotted a ramshackle inn. “The Hog’s Head,” the sign read, or might have if it had not been missing several letters. He was never allowed to enter as a boy. It was not for people of his family’s caliber, his mother had made that clear. But did he even want to be part of that family anymore? There was a goat munching on the grass out front. He took it as a good sign, and walked inside. Entry 13 "I'm not here for you, Albus. I'm here for business. Don't expect -" "Yes," Albus said, eyes trained on something over the barkeep's shoulder. That bright blue light seemed to have been extinguished; Albus Dumbledore radiated fatigue and an ancient remorse even as the old, comfortable rage simmered in Aberforth's veins. "Yes, I understand. We will interact only in a professional capacity." Aberforth nodded stiffly, setting a now slightly cleaner tankard on the counter with a bang muffled by layers of dust. "You done yet?" "Yes. Thank you for entertaining my presence, Aberforth." Polite. Always so bloody polite. Did anything ruffle Albus? Get under his skin? He had to turn his back on his brother to see her, but he knew what they were both looking at. Ariana's portrait. Their dead little sister. The grimy glass cracked in Aberforth's clenched fist. "Welcome to Hogsmeade, brother," Albus said softly. Aberforth didn't see him leave, but the man's absence was just as palpable as his presence. "You finally got your power. I hope you're happy in your castle on your mountain," Aberforth spat. The glass shattered in his hand. Entry 14 "And that one looks like a possum has died on her head," Lucius whispered, rather too loudly. "Oh, stop!" Narcissa chided, biting back a laugh. "You're horrible." "I'm not horrible, these ridiculous hats are horrible," Lucius countered. "I will never understand 'fashion.'" "Some people might say you're rather fashionable," Narcissa pointed out with a small smile, sipping her tea. Madame Puddifoot's was almost empty, owing to the excellent weather outside, and she and Lucius almost had the place to themselves. They'd even managed to procure this lovely spot at the window, the perfect place for mocking passers-by. "I am absolutely not," her date scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "I have style. It's entirely different. Fashion comes and goes, but style is classic. It's forever." Narcissa couldn't help but smile at that. Forever.. You know, she was really beginning to grow fond of this Lucius Malfoy.

<b>First:</b> <b>Second:</b> <b>Third:</b> Name//House

History buff? You'll find yourself among friends by joining here.