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[2018 Days of Potter] The 12 Counter-Spells of Christmas
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Meteolojinx Recanto Meteolojinx Recanto -Someone must use an umbrella for other than its intended purpose -Someone must say, "It's good to be evil." -Must include an unholy number of cupcakes An Afternoon with the Twins A ficlet featuring Apollo Kennedy and Syah Harwell “Duh duh duh, dum de dum de dum duh da..” The sound of singing lured Apollo Kennedy from the kitchen, the nineteen year old was covered from head to toe in flour, there were even smudges of the white substance on his cheek. He walked down the hall, leaving a trail of white footprints in his wake, he made a right into the living room, where he found his twin, Syah, dancing around an Umbrella, she was humming a tune from an old Muggle movie. She flipped the umbrella up into her hand and spun around the room with it out in front of her. “What in Merlin’s green left sock are you doing Sy?” Apollo asked as he leaned against the doorway. “I’m singing, and dancing in the rainnnnn.” Came the sung reply as the blonde spun around the room with the black umbrella. “It’s not raining.” He deadpanned. Seeing his twin dancing around the room was rather normal, after all she wasn’t going to WADA for nothing. And one day she had chased him around the house singing “The Phantom of the Opera” cape, dramatic music and all, so this was actually pretty tame for her. The dancing stopped and Sy spun around to face her twin, one hand was on her hip as she looked at him and shook her head. “Dad would kill me if I made it rain inside the house.” She said with a soft smirk. “Just like he’s going to kill you for getting flour everywhere.” The boy kept his casual stance against the doorway, uncaring that he was smudging flour all over the doorway. “Well I can’t help it if baking isn’t my forte.” He said with a lazy shrug. “Yes, well maybe you can help being a mess?” St said as she grabbed her wand from a nearby table and then flicked it at him, and after a quick scourify, the flour was gone from his person and from the doorway! “Do you need help?” She asked as she set her Umbrella down and moved closer to her twin. “Obviously I’m not getting the rest of my practicing done with you hanging around.” She teased him lightly. “Yeah, I’m not going to frost all of these things by myself.” Apollo said as he turned and moved back down into the hall with a bit of an eye roll at her last words, dramatic twin was dramatic. He heard a gasp as his sister came into the kitchen. “They are everywhere.” Came an awed whisper. It was true, cupcakes of almost every flavor you could imagine, were covering every single available surface in the kitchen, they were all over the counters, the tables, even some of the chairs had cupcakes scattered on them. “Why do you need so many cupcakes?” Apollo heard his sisters question and he sighed. “I said I would do the baking for a fundraiser at school, no one told me how many of these things I had to make. 500 is a bit much.” “500? Dear Merlin..” Syah groaned. “Was there a girl involved?” She asked as she sank into a chair, which sadly had cupcakes on it. Apollo winced as his sister shrieked and bolted upright, thankfully she was so focused on the cupcakes sticking to her pants he didn’t have to answer that last bit about a girl! “Apollo Stefan Kennedy!” The words had barely left her mouth when something warm and soft hit him smack dab in the face. “Mmph!” Was the only sound Apollo could make as he found himself with a mouth full of chocolate cupcake! “Not the chocolate ones, I actually did decent on those.” Crumbs flew everywhere as he spoke. “You are going to get it.” He managed to get out as he swallowed the warm cake. He stuck his hand into a nearby bowl of bright green frosting and was about to throw it at her when he noticed another bowl of Frosting levitating towards his head! “Oh don’t you even..” The lanky blonde couldn’t even get the last word out before he found himself with bright blue frosting pouring over his head! As the frosting dripped over his ear he heard the squeals of laughter from his sister. “Artemis Syah Harwell!” Apollo sputtered as he wiped frosting out of his eyes and licked the sweet substance from his lips. “My hair is going to be blue!” He shrieked at her as the gooey liquid dripped down his cheek. “I don’t know ‘Pollo, blue could be a good color on you! Impress all the girls with your punkiness?” Came the giggly reply “You look so innocent and nice, sunshine, but you really are the evil twin!” He said as he lunged after her. “It’s good to be evil.” Sy laughed and squealed as she ran out of the kitchen and towards the living room once more away from her angry, and blue frosting covered twin. |
Rennervate Christmas on the Closed Ward A ficlet featuring Aisha Thomas "Ainsley. Your name is Phineas Ainsley." For what had to have been the seventh time already, Aisha Thomas was reminding the plump patient his name as she held onto his arm and led him down the hallway. Somehow Ainsley had again escaped and snuck down three floors to flirt with the receptionist, claiming that he was the Minister for Magic. "Have you been hit with a Forgetfulness Charm, young lady? How can you not know the Minister for Magic when you see him? My face has been in all of the papers!" A sigh quietly escaped her lips as she opened the door to the ward, deciding it wasn't worth correcting Phineas anymore. "Alright then, Minister, in you go. And please, for the love of Merlin, stay in here. You're making the Welcome Witch uncomfortable." "Uncomfortable? What nonsense! The woman is just playing hard to get. Did you see the way she looked at me before we..." The rest of Phineas' words were ignored as he stepped forward and hopped right back into bed. Aisha remained standing by the door after locking it, taking a moment to gather her wits before fully immersing herself back in the chaos that was the Janus Thickey Ward. But, of course, her moment was interrupted by a brief bout of hysteria. Marjorie Fairbanks was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, seemingly amused by something that wasn't actually there, as she fiddled with a bracelet her daughter had given her earlier that day. At least someone is enjoying themselves, the practicum student thought as she made her way past bed after bed, patient after patient, and a slew of opened cardboard boxes and torn wrapping paper. "Was he bothering Josephine again, Aisha?" Her dark brown eyes locked with those of Rosemary McLaggen, who was trying to coerce Samuel Kelly to stop walking around the decorated pine tree in the middle of the room, slip under the comforter, and take some candy to help him sleep. "... ten thousand, five hundred, sixty-seven. Ten thousand, five hundred, sixty-eight. Ten thousand, five hundred..." "Yes, he went right back to her. I'm surprised he hasn't asked her to marry him at this point to be honest." "I'm just surprised the old woman hasn't hexed him yet," responded Rosemary, nudging Samuel off his path around the tree and toward his bed finally with success. "... ten thousand, five hundred, seventy-four..." "What good it would do at this point though," Aisha responded, her tone somehow light-hearted even though her words rang true. Rosemary let out a chuckle, though she quickly covered her mouth as if it was wrong of her to be amused by such a statement. "... ten thousand, five hundred, seventy-five. Ten thousand, five hundred, seventy-six..." "Mind helping me keep him from wandering? You know how he gets when it is time for b-e-d." Without saying a word, Aisha quickened her pace to Samuel's bed and pulled back the covers. Then, with a flick of her wand, the required 'candy' and a glass came flying out of a cabinet from across the room. "Oh, pour some of that milk for him instead of water. It was a gift from his nephew. I'm sure he'd like that with his candy tonight. Wouldn't you, Weston?" "... ten thousand, five hundred, ninety-one..." With another flick, the self-cooling jar of milk rose from the bedside table, the cap twisted off, and the white liquid poured into the levitating glass. The jar set itself down once the glass was full, and Aisha was standing next to the bed with a firm hand on Samuel's shoulder. The man was already incredibly anxious not being able to move around and count his steps. "Here you go, darling," Rosemary said sweetly, grabbing the glass with one hand and handing over the red candy with the other. "Take these and drink up." The man refused. More refusals and efforts to walk around were made for about a minute, but Aisha managed to keep him from fussing further and slipped the candy in his mouth. The glass of milk quickly followed, courtesy of Rosemary. But the milk didn't go down. Instead it and the candy was spat right onto Rosemary's lime green robes. "SAMUEL!" the woman cried. Suddenly the scent of spoiled milk hit Aisha's nose as Rosemary ran to the cabinet to fetch herself a towel and Samuel shot out of bed, his counting starting right where he had left off as he headed for the tree. Then a high-pitched cackle rang in her ears. After spinning around, Aisha took in the sight of Majorie laughing up a storm once more, though her eyes weren't glued to some figment of her imagination up on the ceiling. This time the patient's arm was extended, a finger pointing at one of the beds that should not have been empty. Her eyes then shifted over to the door, which was unlocked and cracked open. Phineas had escaped the ward yet again. "Bloody hell." Spending Christmas with her family rather than at the closed ward had never looked so good unil now. |
Nox a ficlet ¤ Someone must try really hard to stay awake on Christmas Eve ¤ Must include something unexpectedly spicy ¤ Someone must say something in a sing-song voice Teddy Lupin was twenty-five. It was Christmas eve and his wife, Victoire, was busy baking gingerbread cookies with their daughters to give out to the neighbors come Christmas morning, its smell carried over from the kitchen to where he was sprawled comfortably on the couch. |
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And honestly, tonight, after turning a corner to find yet ANOTHER Gryffindor out of the dorm after curfew, Rose was feeling quite bitter indeed. Did they think she LIKED taking points? Did they think she enjoyed having to punish her housemates and ruin their chances of winning the House Cup? It was Christmas! “Aw, honestly, Rose,” her housemate Dane was the latest miscreant, caught lugging a box of butterbeers up the stairs between the third and fourth floor. “I think you like taking points. I think you enjoy punishing us and ruining our chances of winning the House Cup. Don’t you know it’s Christmas?” Boys were so exhausting. Especially Gryffindor ones. “Just hurry and get those to the dorm room, and tell anyone you see along the way that I’m taking double points from now on.” Because this was ridiculous. “Brilliant. Thanks.” Dane began to shove the crate again before pausing and pulling a bent sugar quill from his trouser pocket. It was unpleasantly sticky. “Happy Christmas. This makes me think of you.” Rose watched him go before depositing the quill in the nearest bin. Just three more floors and she could head back to bed. Plus the kitchen and dungeon and she ought to check the front doors and… Merlin. What was the point of being the Head Girl if you still had to take the worst shifts? She continued down the stairs, her steps dragging. A crash rose from the floor below, and Rose skidded down the last few steps and around the corner, only to discover that a suit of armor had taken out a Christmas tree, which had taken out the tree next to it, and so on, and so on, all the way down the corridor. It was a giant evergreen dominos game and it made her want to weep. Standing amid the crushed bulbs and scattered candy canes was tiny third year Patch Callahan, who looked mildly befuddled and had tinsel in his hair. And hanging over his ears. And maybe up his nose, but that wasn’t worth investigating. He turned in a slow circle, taking in all the damage, and only looking mildly alarmed when he spotted Rose. “I didn’t do it.” He’d obviously done it. He was the only one there. “I swear!” “Okay…?” Patch pointed to a tiny frog jumping out from beneath the suit of armor nearest the door. “HE did it!” “Just clean it up, Callahan, and then go to bed.” “Sure thing, Rose,” Patch shoved the nearest tree up against the wall, where it sagged unhappily. “Oh! Happy Christmas to you!” And he handed her a sugar quill. Suppressing the urge to throttle the younger boy, Rose stomped back towards the stairs. She wouldn’t even bother with the dungeons or the kitchen. The Head Boy could manage those himself, and she desperately wanted to lock herself into her dormitory and smother herself with her own pillow. That sort of activity could take all night, so she’d best get started soon. On the first floor, somehow, Rose ran into Dane again, this time with a giant basket full of chocolate croissants. Before she could even open her mouth to threaten him with undue harm, Dane grinned and fished another sugar quill out of his pocket. “I DO NOT WANT YOUR SUGAR QUILLS, DANE PITNEY. WHY DO YOU KEEP GIVING ME SUGAR QUILLS?” Rose took off her shoe and pitched it at him. They were both lucky when it was snatched out of the air by the Slytherin Seeker and Head Boy. Scorpius Malfoy. In the flesh. “She just tried to murder me, Malfoy. You saw it.” Dane lifted his basket in self defense, and only protested a little when Scorp stole a croissant. “You know what a wise Muggle philosopher said? She said ‘Who run the world? Girls.’ I think we should bend to the inevitable.” Scorp handed Rose the croissant with a wink. “That’s not even grammatically correct,” Rose scoffed, but she was mollified. That was the good thing about her Head Boy – he always managed to make things seem easier and more reasonable. Dane disappeared up the stairs with his basket, and Rose tore the croissant in half to share it with Scorp. “Happy Christmas?” He wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. “At least it isn’t a sugar quill, right?” Thank Merlin for Slytherin boys. |
Depulso The Greatest Gift a fanfic featuring Gaston and Desiree Marchand * Must include something surprisingly heavy * Must have someone inadvertently rhyme, and then say "hey that rhymes!" * Someone must accidentally use their wand the wrong way around Gaston's blue eyes snapped open at the sound of a shrill cry. Ugh, what was that noise? he thought, still half asleep. He sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and looked around the room groggily. It was still dark in the house, still dark outside. His eyes fell to a shadowy square shape at the other side of the room and he suddenly remembered Desiree… his newborn daughter, barely 2 days old. Panic gripped his heart. Was she sick? Hurt? Scared? Wasting no more time, he quickly threw a dressing gown on over his pajamas, pocketed his wand, and sidled over to the tiny blue-eyed baby squirming in the crib across the room. “Poor baby,” he whispered as he picked her up, blankets and all. “Shh… it's okay, Daddy's here.” He gently rocked her back and forth, murmuring soothing words to her in French as his sleep-deprived mind tried ro riddle out what was wrong. She didn't need a change, and the warming charm he'd placed on her blankets hadn't worn off. Maybe that was the problem… she was too hot. He tried unwrapping the blankets, but that only made her cry harder. He touched her forehead; it didn't feel like she had a fever. She must be hungry then. Carefully shifting the fussy Desiree to one side, Gaston drew his wand and cast a nonverbal Lumos as he started down the stairs to the kitchen. The bright light from his wand illuminated the clock on the wall; it was half past six. He should probably go ahead and make some coffee. Rose and the rest of the family would be up soon, and even so, he needed caffeine to function this early! But first, somebody needed breakfast! Gaston aimed his wand to summon a bottle from the fridge, but nothing happened. What the-? Why wasn't it working? He looked down and saw he had his wand pointed the wrong way around; he shook his head, chuckling to himself. Merlin's beard, if that wasn't a sign he needed sleep, he didn't know what was! Turning his wand around the right way, he summoned a bottle and cast a quick warming charm on it. While Desiree suckled greedilly on her bottle, Gaston wandered into the living room. He saw the Christmas tree and the stockings hung on the mantel, one for each member of the family, all brimming with goodies. In his exhausted state, he had almost forgotten what day it was! “Look, Desiree! It's your very first Christmas Day,” he whispered, gesturing toward the brightly lit pine. Realizing what he just said, he laughed. “Hey, that rhymes!” Oh, good Godric Gryffindor! I'm so tired, I'm speaking in rhyme, he thought. And he wasn't even trying to write a song! Gaston lowered himself into a nearby armchair, taking extra care not to jostle the newborn in his arms as she finished her bottle. He half-expected Desiree to drift off to sleep once she was fed and happy - or at least he hoped she would. Maybe then he could get a bit more sleep! But she was wide-awake and wiggly. He needed something to calm her down, but what? Bright blue eyes scanned the room and found the family photo album sitting on the coffee table. He picked the book up one-handed and nearly dropped it. That thing was a lot heavier than he remembered! His mother must've added to it… He carefully situated the book on his lap and opened it to a faded old photograph of a mother and father with three boys. “That's your grandfather when he was a little boy,” he said, pointing to the blond boy in the middle of the photo. “And there's Uncle Paul - he was so much fun!” He smiled as he pointed at the shorter, younger boy; his expression changed as he pointed out the tallest child. “And Uncle Alex… I don't think he ever liked me much.” Then his eyes fell to the man and woman. “And these people are your great-grandparents. I never met them, but I'm sure they would've loved you!” On the opposite page was a smiling little girl with dark hair, sitting beside a Christmas tree surrounded by toys as her parents looked on. “And there's your grandmother when she was little,” Gaston explained. “And her parents - they used to invite the whole family over for Christmas dinner. She-” He pointed to the woman. “-made the best cookies!” He could almost smell their sweet, buttery scent even now! As Gaston talked, Desiree stopped wriggling and snuggled contentedly into his chest, calmed by the sound of his voice. Their twin pairs of blue eyes met as she stared intently at him, as if hanging on to his every word. He thumbed through the pages, pointing out more family members as he went, until he came to a photo of a blond man and dark-haired woman, grown-up versions of the two children in the other photographs. “There's your grandparents on their first Christmas together. See how happy they look!” A couple of pages later, the young couple in the photographs were joined by a baby with big blue eyes and unruly black hair. “And that's me on my first Christmas. Can you believe I was once as tiny as you?” Looking back through the photos of his childhood, Gaston was lost in the memories of Christmases past… of Christmas Eve dinners with family, staying awake to see Father Christmas, unwrapping toys on Christmas morning. But the ache of longing he thought he'd feel wasn't there. Instead he imagined several older versions of Desiree enjoying all the Christmas traditions he once did, but they would have plenty of time for that. Gaston gazed at his now sleeping daughter, his eyes shining with adoration. He could hardly believe this was real! After all this time waiting and wishing for a little one of his own to love and nurture, he'd started to give up hope that it would ever happen. Now his lifelong dream of fatherhood had finally come true - and at Christmastime, no less! “Merry Christmas, my baby Desiree,” he whispered. She was his best Christmas gift ever! |
Vulnera Sanentur Someone gets a nasty papercut It must feature a knitted backpack Someone finds a trail of slugs Cynthia Jackson had just been walking down the corridor to the Potions lab when she heard the loud cry of "Ouch!" from someone inside the boy's bathroom. It figured that there were no boys anywhere in sight, because she could tell that this person was in some serious pain and needed immediate attention. Great. With her luck she would get caught in there and become the scourge of the school. It was a terrible choice, but someone had to do it. Steeling her spine, she rushed to the door and called out, "Is anyone in there with you? "No," the boy called. "Help, I'm bleeding!" This thing was getting uglier with every passing second. "Are you dressed?" she asked cautiously. "Yes," she heard, then a coyote-like yelp followed by another plea for help. Cynthia gritted her teeth and grasped the door handle as she pushed it open, blinking her bluish-green eyes as she did so as if preparing for a terrifying sight. And of course, she was not disappointed. The boy was around her age, give or take a year, and was bleeding profusely from a cut on his right arm. "What happened?" she asked. "My owl Gimlet accidentally broke the window," the boy told her. "I got cut by a piece of glass." Just then she noticed the small, grayish owl circling the room. "I'm Van, by the way" "Cynthia," she said. "Let me do the Vulnera Sanentur on that thing, as it looks like you've been hit by the Sectumsempra." She began to rummage in the magenta knitted backpack which she constantly carried with her, a precious handmade gift from her grandmother from when she had first started going to Hogwarts. After a few moments of digging she found what she had been looking for, a nice wad of soft fabric that she had thrown in there just in case. She now took this out of the bag and softly placed it over the wound, lightly securing it with another piece of fabric. "Hey, you're really prepared!" Van told her. "I try to be," Cynthia answered. In truth, this seemed far from the case to her. She often wandered off somewhere, and she had been late to class today because of her having followed a trail of what appeared to be some very wayward slugs. She had been imagining discovering some kind of amazing slug palace but had been unable to reach the end of the trail due to her realizing that she was getting later and later to class. Reality could a pain, but she would solve that mystery of the slugs some day! For a few seconds she pondered sharing her secret with Van, but she had just met him and he might think she was weird or something. Only time would tell. She had done her good deed of the day and that was good enough for now. |
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A ficlet featuring Charlie and Bill Weasley Quote:
“I’ve tried every spell I could think of.” |
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