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100 Drabbles for the Great Moments of the Great Hall by Felixir - Sa13+ Y'all know the drill. YAYYYYY GREAT HALL DRABBLES! A resounding SLAP! echoed throughout the empty Great Hall. Well… almost empty. There were actually two students present. One Ronald Weasley and one Cho Chang, to be precise. They were on a midnight excursion, and the Great Hall seemed the best place to go. All the moonlight made things… well… easier. Better. But, onto more pressing matters. The slap. Ron looked at Cho, stunned. He’d been leaning closer to the girl… closer and closer… Cho just glared. “I will NOT!” By this point, Ron looked gloomy. “I will NOT support CHUDLEY CANNONS!” Then she stormed off. Boys were such jerks. |
“I dare you! Now you gotta do it!” “But BIIIIIIIIIILL!” “Shut up and go!” Charlie Weasley, Gryffindor first year, gulped and looked from his older brother to the Slytherin house table. It was lesson time, but the boys were in the deserted Great Hall. “Do it or I’ll disown you.” Charlie pouted. He climbed up to the dias and went to the back wall without another word. Next thing you knew, Charlie had pushed off from the wall, sprinted across the dias and leapt to the Slytherin table… where he skidded the length of it on cooking oil. It hurt. |
Draco Malfoy sneered. He was sitting in the Great Hall, amongst his housemates and the rest of the student population, observing the sorting with calculating eyes. If you included his own, this was the third sorting he had attended, and standards were dropping. Take the kid who’d just been sorted into Slytherin. Draco heard his surname. It was the name of the pureblood wizard who had married a muggle and despised the term ‘pureblood’. He was a blood traitor. This was his son. Why there was scum like THAT in the school, Draco had no idea. That kid would pay. |
The Hogwarts students sat quietly at their tables, all looking rather grim. The Sorting Hat was carried out, and the Great Hall remained silent. Each student looked to their neighbour and then to their friends. A first year made the first noise; a small whimper directed at the prefect of his house. Then, slowly, a tide of mumbling rose, panicked exclamations could be heard. The Sorting Hat had given Hogwarts a warning for the first time in 200 years, back when Lord Voldemort had risen. Dark forces were at work once again. And the Great Hall was filled with panic. |
“I hate you,” came the toneless statement from one Sybil Trelawney as she went to sit at her cousin’s house table in the Great Hall; Gryffindor. “Why come?” the older Trelawney replied, sitting casually on the bench, not looking up, with her legs stretched out as she read a muggle magazine and blew a bubble with her bubblegum. “You told me to choose Divination,” the third year exclaimed, popping the bubblegum and glaring. “I hate it. I hate you.” The older girl sighed, it was time to use Sybil’s fame obsession against her. “Let me tell you about our ancestor…” |
The Care of Magical stared into the Great Hall, her expression fearful. And she was quite right to be afraid. Tables stood smouldering, the benches piles of ash beside said tables. Cutlery and other silverware were half pools of melted… whatever they’d started out as, and the food which still remained was a little more than over-cooked. At least the Headmistress wasn’t at school yet, this professor had time to try and fix things. But never was she EVER going to let the students walk the baby fire crabs EVER again. It was just too much of a risk. Hooligans. |
A 6th year Ravenclaw stalked into the Great Hall and towards the Gryffindor table. It wasn’t hard to find what he was looking for… the boy’s Lion brother was in the midst of a laughing group of lads. And this particular Ravenclaw was pretty sure the one right in the centre had not done his homework. “Oh Thomaaaaaaas,” he called, breaking through the Gryffindors and grabbing his 3rd year brother by the scruff of his neck. “Someone has some homework to doooooo.” The younger boy, Thomas, looked surprised at first, before crying out in horror. “No, Joel. Don’t… make… NOOOOOOO!” |
Eleven year old Ginny Weasley sat at the Gryffindor table with a bunch of her other first year friends. They were about to head down to Herbology for a test which was meant to be a practice for the exams coming up in a few months. As they were checking through everything they needed, Ginny shrieked. “My gloves! My Dragonhide Gloves! Where are they?!” In a flash, the red-head was up and out of her seat, sprinting back down the table to search the common room… Leaving said gloves on the bench where she’d sat on them for safe keeping. |
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