Theme # 76: Zap


Little Pius Thicknesse was, no doubt, an adorable boy. The six year old, who would later go down in history as one of the worst Ministers of Magic London had ever seen or would see, was amazingly cute as a kid, hair thick and curly, eyes extremely bright.

"Is it mine, mummeh, is it mine?" The little boy asked, jumping up and down as he clutched the plastic turtle his mother had gotten him, close to his chest. When Mrs. Thicknesse nodded, he enthusiastically waved the little turtle about.

"I'll call it Zap, mummeh! I'll call it Zap!"

Theme # 77: Cheerful


'Cheerful' and Quentin Trimble, did not go together. The wizard, now forty years of age, had seen too much in his life, to smile properly now. He could, yes, but it was usually a dry sort, the kind that hardly ever turned into a laugh. Often, he was too busy taking everything in, making precise observations, calculating his exact move, to laugh out loud.

It was half past two in the morning, right now. The elderly-looking wizard dipped his quill in ink, and bent down over his manuscript of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection, once more.

Theme # 78: Author's Choice


Wilkie Twycross wanted to bang his head, in a wall. The Head of the Department of Magical Transportation had thought it would be simple, when he had taken up the position, to continue the tradition of annual Apparition lessons, at Hogwarts.

It was much easier said than done.

The last thing that students wanted to do, it seemed to him, was concentrate. By the end of the first class, which was supposed to be only theory, he already had two cases of missing eyebrows, and one of an ex having broken up a couple, on his hands.

Several headaches, too.

Theme # 79: Author's Choice


Heliotrope Willis was not a troll, thank you very much. People who heard of him, often thought he was one. That had nothing to do with his appearance, either. He was tall, rather sturdy, but nothing like a troll, that much was certain. What made people mistake him for one, then, was that he almost always appeared in the news for what was his passion - the troll rights movement.

*

"Mr. Willis, do you have a message for the readers?" The redheaded reporter asked him, as she wrapped up their interview.

"Yes," Heliotrope said, at once. "I'm not a troll."

Theme # 80: Author's Choice


Bozo was in love. With the cheeky smile, the jewelled glasses, the ability to poke her nose into anyone's business - in short, with Rita Skeeter.

"Come on, Bozo, take a picture of me with Mrs. Bontecue," the Daily Prophet reporter's voice said, shaking him out of his thoughts. He nodded, as his camera zoned in on Mrs. Bontecue, the rich lady who had agreed to give Rita certain inside information; and Rita, the love of his life.

Only, he got carried away and ended up snapping half a dozen pictures that completely excluded Mrs. Bontecue.

Was Rita furious!

Theme # 81: Depression
Breaking the Fourth Wall. Mini challenge. <3


When his sister accidentally stepped on his foot, and Ethelred blew up the tree in the garden in annoyance, he probably was not aware that he would, one day, be spoken of as Ethelred the Ever-Ready, a wizard "quick to take offense."

Though this author thinks that, even if he had known, there is a chance he would not have mended his ways. Because he was not willing to accept that he could become depressed or vexed too quickly, or that he loved snapping at others.

Ah, well. Stories are stories, and we shall let such quirky characters be.

Theme # 82: Careful


Careful was not a word that applied to Fingal, the Fearless. If he had thought of caution often, he would not have been who he was - a champion in a sport known for the dangers it set.

The sport of Aingingein, where players endeavoured to fly through a series of burning barrels.

But, of course, no one could deny that, as much as it required a love for risks, a champion of the game also knew that it required one to be wary, at times. Fingal had the perfect mix of care and carelessness.

No wonder he won, every time.

Theme # 83: Fearful


You must have heard of Fulbert, the Fearful.

Fulbert, the Fearful. The wizard who was quirky enough to be scared of anything and everything. Who never left his house. Who never stepped out of his own comfort zone, never attempted to tackle the challenges that life offers us, never endeavoured to grow into the wonderful person he could have been.

Who never learned to risk.

He brought about his own downfall, through unhappy cowardice - the roof of his house collapsed, when a Defensive Charm of his backfired.

The end, no worse or better off than the life.

Only as pitiful.

Theme # 84: Angry


Herpo was furious, and that was exactly why it was raining chickens. The chickens fell everywhere, clucking and trying to grab at the air for support and, when they couldn't find anything to clutch at, they fell on people's heads and sat there, or scampered down shirts and tried to peck at feet.

"What is it, now?" A pretty witch asked, as she sat up in bed.

"Must be Herpo, again," her husband replied, cheerfully. "Let's go back to sleep, dear."



Herpo, the Foul. Creator of the Basilisk and the first Horcrux.

Evil at work, in general.

Theme # 85: Snappish


Savage was exceedingly snappish, today. It was clear he had had a bad night at home, and was attempting to crush the annoyance, by being an all-around idiot, at work.

"Shut up, Savage," Tonks said, exasperated, as her patience finally wore thin after he had yelled at her for the fifth time in the past ten minutes; and, picking up the nearest object - a book - she threw it at his head, to keep him quiet.

Savage ducked, of course. "You're acting very immature today, Nymphadora," he growled.

"I must have learned it from you," Tonks pointed out, dryly.

Theme # 86: Daring


There are times when it is hard, to define courage. To lock it up, in certain parameters, and draw the narrow line between it and cowardice, between it and folly, between it and prudence.

Wilkes, any of his friends would tell you, had been a courageous wizard. He had gone down, fighting for what he believed was true. Gone down, single-handedly tackling five members of the Order of the Phoenix, and even taking down one of them, before he fell.

Ask the Order, and they would tell you he was good-for-nothing.

Tell you he was a coward.

Theme # 87: Plaid


Edgar Stroulger was rich. Edgar Stroulger was famous. Edgar Stroulger could buy himself anything he wanted to, any time of the year.

But he was staring down at his new T-shirt, one that was clearly plaid.

Oh, how he hated plaid.

Oh, how he hated the fact that his mother always, always forced him to wear plaid on Christmas eve.

"Mum."

She looked up, from her knitting. "Yes, darling?"

He sighed. "Nothing."

Edgar Stroulger was rich. Edgar Stroulger was famous. Edgar Stroulger could buy himself anything he wanted to, any time of the year.

Edgar Stroulger was wearing plaid.

Theme # 88: Sweet Tooth


Everard was known for more than one achievement - the healer extraordinaire was a wise man in general, and relied solely on his intellect, and co-operative counsel, to run Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He ran it pretty smoothly, too. The elderly man liked discipline, yes, but was not particularly strict, and sometimes allowed trouble-makers to go free, without detention or punishment.

Oh, and he had a sweet tooth. Mint, candy, fruit flavours, chocolate frogs, strawberry dragons, vanilla fondue fountains - you name it; and, if it's delicious, you would see that he had tried it out, already.

Theme # 89: Past


"Viridian."

Vindictus Viridian shifted in his seat. He knew his knowledge of defensive magic was great, but he had never written a book before.

His best friend had been leafing through the manuscript, and now addressed Vindictus.

"Yes?" he asked, nervously.

"By the time I finish reading the title, I feel like I started reading it in the far past."

The best friend placed the manuscript down, and the name glittered up at Vindictus.

Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)

Oops!

Theme # 90: Present


The ring was perfect. Not expensive, but beautiful. The band was silver, wiped with exquisite polish, and the little "gemstone" was one no one could actually name, a cheap but beautiful kind picked up, somewhere. But the product, on the whole, was definitely enchanting; and Arthur, the moment he beheld it, knew it would make a lovely present, for his wife.

It had been a while, since he had gotten her any jewellery. Life was hard enough, as it was, without wasting money on what was not necessary. But this, Arthur vowed, he would buy for Molly, this very week.

Theme # 91: Future


Gilbert Wimple chewed his lip, as he looked down at the document in front of him. There was an empty space at the bottom, where he was meant to sign. He could tell the witch who had handed her the quill, a very business-like kind in itself, was watching him, rather intently. He hesitated and then, with the desperate air of a man committing himself to certain death, sighed the paper.

What the future held for him, Gilbert did not know. But he was now an employee of the Committee on Experimental Charms, at the Ministry of Magic, London.

Theme # 92: Chocolate


"Two scoops of the chocolate chip ice-cream, please," the tiny voice said.

Peering down, Florean Fortescue had to smile - the boy who had placed the order was tiny, and did not even reach the counter. Nodding, Florean reached for the ice-cream spoon, scooped out the required amount of chocolate, and poured vanilla on top of it.

"That will be six sickles, sonny."

The little boy beamed and passed over six knuts, all the money he seemed to have on him. For a while, Florean stared at the amount. Then he smiled, and handed over the ice-cream.

"Enjoy."

Theme # 93: Chicken


Gibbon hated it, at Hogwarts. You would think a death eater would be treated with more respect, especially when Harry Potter was no longer at school, and the place was operating under the control of Voldemort. Gibbon had thought so, too. But it looked like little was in favour of them, these days. The teachers who taught properly, seemed to be here only to ensure that the students could get away with mischief. Nobody co-operated, not even the ghosts. Especially not Peeves, the poltergiest.

Oh, and everything the house-elves sent to his office was horrid. Especially the chicken.

Theme # 94: Allergic


ACH-CHOOO!

ACCHH-CHOOO!

"Godric?" Rowena's voice was tentative as, a silken scarf tied round her mouth, she peeked into the founder's room. Her concern was rewarded by another sneeze, this one even mightier than the last.

"You alright?" This was Helga, who had apparently been shaken out of her own work and thoughts by the noise, and arrived to join Rowena, outside of Godric's room.

"Of course not," Godric sneezed. "Who placed those little, white lilies in my vase, this morning? Don't you people know I'm allergic to them?"

Oops.

That had been Rowena.

Theme # 95: Snowball


Lee Jordan was at it, again. Trouble, what else. Though, of course, it was what he termed "fun." His companions seemed to agree, of course. The three of them - two ginger-headed boys everyone at Hogwarts knew, and the only curly-headed fifth year that was Lee Jordan - sneaked up behind a tree, their arms full of huge, freshly-moulded snowballs.

Then they exchanged meaningful glances, and Lee Jordan honked the horn in his hand, to declare snow-war. It had been his idea, after all.

One! Two! More!

The snowballs whizzed past the three, to attack everyone in sight.

Theme # 96: Socks


What kind of joke was this?

Krum had woken up, to a lovely Christmas. Little lights shone down at him, from the ceiling, and the expected pile of presents lay at the foot of his bed, huge and full of glittery, shiny wrappers that curled into each other in a delightful way.

But then he had gotten out of bed, reached for one at random, unwrapped it, and -- and it had turned out to be socks. Stitched socks. Krum frowned, not at all impressed, until he saw the note attached. With love, from Hermione.

His mood brightened up, at once.

Theme # 97: Dictionary


Basil Horton was not a good student, never had been. He could not for the life of him, get good grades. He had only managed five OWL's, and his parents were pretty much ready for him to drop out, any time. He simply was not good at any subject. Textbooks, dictionaries, libraries - he hated them, each with a passion.

This was the man who would go on to play for the Falmouth Falcons, co-create the Horton-Keitch Braking Charm, and lay the foundations of the Comet Trading Company.

Because we all have our talents, only in different ways.

Theme # 98: Pyjamas


The Quidditch team that Angelina Johnson had to put together was, simply said, a disaster. The players that had shone throughout her time on the Hogwarts quidditch team, could no longer be a part of it when she was captain. In the end, she had let herself think ahead, and not look back at the people who had been part of her plans; and, with a sigh, told Andrew Kirke he had made it on to the team, as beater.

What she did not realize, was how ecstatic Andrew was. He actually danced half the night away, in his pyjamas!

Theme # 99: Newspaper


Oh, Levski loved a morning after a well-played out quidditch match. No, not for the break it offered him, but for the fact that he could pick up the day's newspaper, and see himself grinning out of it, hair windswept - just the way he and the ladies liked it.

It was an excellent way, to get an ego-boast.

Of course, Bulgaria did not always win. There were times when he did not get to see himself grin out of the front page, or times when the picture him looked only disappointed. But Levski could handle that.

Usually.

Theme # 100: Homework


"Git."

"Witch."

Ginny glared.

Draco smirked.

She put the textbook she was meant to use as a reference for her homework down, and looked at him, across the table. "You never help me study, Malfoy."

"That's because I'm too awesome to help a common witch prepare for her finals," he pointed out.

"If I'm common, then you don't exist, Draco Malfoy." She was proud of herself. Of her looks, of her grades, everything. Draco knew that.

It only made him smirk again. "I always get the best, don't I?"

She threw the book at him.