Alright D, I'll try my hand at challenging. Be gentle, it's my first time.

A new challenger has appeared: Big D!
Line: Harry, a hazy memory, and a little plush crocodile.
Length: Above 600 words
Time: 30-60 minutes.

Do your worst/best/mediocrest.

 

I’ve been lurking around the DLP forums for a couple of months by now, so I’ve decided that I want to try to answer a challenge.
Could someone please throw me one???
P.S: I would appreciate if my challenger read my work first, because, I’m not from an English speaking country, and my educational system sucks.

 

Ugh.. Change your font back to normal..

 

Dont fucking change the default font, assholes. -__- Its there for a reason.

 

Seeing new posts here reminds me I still have a challenge to work on. No time like now.

 

Alright, I'm going to regret this.

Can someone give me a non-imposable challenge?

 

I'm bored. Someone give me one.

 

Well, an old challenge Vash had given me. Something to do with Harry/Tracy. It didn't exactly come out that way, though.


It wasn’t love, it never was, but as close an approximation as you could get these days. He liked to think that it was the hair that attracted him: the way it would fall when she leaned over him, letting the pale skin glint in slivers through its dark tendrils. He would curl it behind her head sometimes, tasting her lovely neck as he traveled up to its roots. Sometimes he would use it to obscure her eyes, and photograph her. She looked best like that, without the eyes.

She was an old name from school, but that hardly meant anything now. She was also Slytherin, and perhaps that’s why she participated in his shoots, when he would whisper to his snakes and let them crawl across her body, her wrists and waist looking impossibly slim next to their girth. There was this wide eyed fear in her eyes then, almost wonder, but not quite.

They had become lovers after her first success. There were drinks and booze and a party. And he could, of course, easily find her on the dance floor, waiting. It was almost traditional. His work and sex were synonymous, freely mingling. He thought sometimes that it would obscene the way he could bed them. And when he would see a young girl, fresh and unsoiled, excitedly performing for some lecherous little artist, he would think of Rose. And wonder what he would do if he saw her here, flashing Ginny’s hair, smiling with Ginny’s mouth, upon a raised platform, beneath the probing lights: a dancing dream.

Tracy didn’t tax him as much. She was simple to understand, like a fish left out too long in the sun, with its entire skeleton now showing.

She didn’t complain when he contorted her. Her skin was such that almost every stretch of the muscle below would leave an indelible, photographical footprint upon it. So he contorted he, twisted her, deformed her to catch them. They were fleeting: she could never hold his ideas corporeal for too long before submitting to the pain. He kept those shots in an album that had grown monstrous over the years. He sent for submission the nude ones.

Often he wanted to ask her why she did this, why she had submerged herself into the muggle world so completely as to earn her living here. But he always found his answer in the looking-glass, and then didn’t bother.

She probably wouldn’t have answered anyways. Like Ginny, she was good at that.

If Ginny had noticed the change in him, she certainly hadn’t voiced it. If she had been naïve to this world in the beginning, Hermione he knew had wised her up long ago. He had seen them once, in the outhouse one immortal evening that now only resided in his album, alongside Tracy.

And Ron had hated him for it.

He had kept only one picture of Ron, letting the rest burn. Perfection couldn’t be equaled by sheer numbers, he’d decided. It was a sad picture though, but then all the best ones always are. Death teems with pathos, like maggots on a corpse.

Tracy, he’d long realized, occupied most of the space. All of his prior work had been thrown away, so everything that remained always contained some measure of her presence: whether it was a style he had perfected with her, or a manner of twisting the human condition that she had shown him. Ginny’s practically screamed of her. For while a slender – no, emaciated woman could do Tracy’s work, a pregnant woman would rather burst.

It was really almost love. But not quite.

---------------------------------------------------------------

 

Awesome, Fine, awesome. Of course you didnt add anything from the last time I saw it. >_>

 

I tried, but sadly my ability to write has gone on hibernation. Not Polar Bear hibernation, which is cyclic and quite natural, but Windows XP hibernation: pretty much guaranteed to fuck things up.

 

Well.. here goes my attempt.. bearing in mind it's my first try so it will most likely be very cheesy &/or cliche to the point of making you want to brutally murder me in cold blood..

~~

It’s odd, the thoughts that go through your head when you’re told about an event that will change your life forever. An example? Your wife just gave birth to your first child. Of course you already knew she was pregnant, but you didn’t want to know the gender... now you’re going crazy over names, clothes, toys, a baby shower, the whole deal.

Me… I’m not so… stereotypical, shall we say? My name is Harry Potter, a 15 year old in a school for witches and wizards. I sat staring at Dumbledore, my jaw agape as the translucent version of Sybil Trelawney sank back down into his Pensieve. ‘A Prophecy? Well doesn’t that just explain everything…’

“So let me get this straight… I don’t have a choice in the matter? I can either save the world, or die trying and the rest of that heroic, sympathetic bullshit? That’s just.. argh!” Words couldn’t describe the anger coursing through my veins.

One of the silver smoking trinkets on the shelves shattered sending bolts, screws and oddly an oddly thick white gooey substance everywhere. I snarled, eyes narrowed and glared into that lined face. No emotion, nothing. Gone was the sympathy, but still those damned twinkling eyes remained.

“You tell me that you’re sorry, you tell me that it’s your fault? You know what, it is your fault but I’ll be damned if I accept your apology.” I stood up slowly, trying to quench my rage but no… that, fire that… surge I got whenever I was angry.. accidental magic they called it… personally I think I harboured a gift, something special. I snorted, what else was knew? I was always different, special in some way or another.

I survived the Killing curse in my first year of life, became the youngest Seeker in a Century, slew a Basilisk with a Sword, freed my Godfather from certain death thanks to a miniature hourglass on a chain with some complicated magic thrown in. I’d played with fire (literally) during the Triwizard Tournament, retrieving that damn golden egg. I’d nearly drowned to save two people, having been hoodwinked into thinking they’d actually drown… I’d fought through a maze of weird creatures, odd spells and rather hot topless Sphynx’s only to find out my life was at best, dependant upon the flip of a coin.

Flipping a coin, heads or tails, 50/50… Two-Face. The one time I’d managed to sneak into the living room while Dudley had been watching the television, he’d been watching some superhero cartoon, some nut dressed up as a Bat… but the villain, half deformed, half human had intrigued me.

Always flipping that coin.. heads or tails… live, or die…

“You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” I twitched, my wand-hand flexing, fingers clicking on my other hand…

“Sorry, but what? I can die the hero, or I’ll become the villain?” I laughed, I couldn’t help it. The humour in the situation was just too much. I couldn’t believe how corny it all sounded, even if there was some truth behind it…

That Cruciatus curse that Bellatrix hadn’t even felt? Well, she may not have felt anything, but I did. Deep inside, something opened up and I felt… shall we say, more alive? I wanted to do it again, take another shot, it felt like a drug, or so I imagined that’s how drugs would feel… you know what I mean, right?

No? Well, I have been labelled as ‘unsafe and Insane’ this year, so it wouldn’t surprise me… “I’m sorry, headmaster but personally I don’t believe it. Grindelwald didn’t exactly die a hero did he? Sure, he had a cause, he believe he was fighting for what’s right, but In the end he died in vain, didn’t he?”

I saw something stir in the old mans eyes, the twinkle gone but for a second, then it returned. God it made me sic… those ever twinkling eyes… what did it take to put them out? To watch the twinkle fade away forever and never return?

That’s when I felt that… craving, that very same urge I felt just after casting my first successful Unforgiveable. Smirking, I slid my hand into my pocket and pulled out a Galleon. Odd how I have money on me, isn’t it? Well, society treated me like it’s little toy, so I just stole a handful of money from the Fountain. Hardly amazing isn’t it? Hell, it’s the kind of thing you’d expect a muggle teenager to do, but eh… It made me feel better.

I looked at the side of the Galleon that was facing upward. Smooth, shining in the candlelight, serial number, something that looked like the scribbled work of a toddler and the picture of Merlin himself. I turned the coin over. Same serial number, same scribbling, the only difference was that Merlins head was replaced with two crossed wands over a a large looking boat. I didn’t know what it was, but it helped me make up my mind.

“Tell you what, Dumbles.” I snorted again at my little nickname as the old mans eyebrows rose, looking like they were retreating into his hairline. Was I cracking? Probably. But hey, what’s life without a little… chaos?

“Lets give it all up to fate.” I pulled my wand it, aiming at the ground, flipping the coin in my hand. “Since you think I only have two options, then lets let fate decide… Heads, you live and I’ll fight on for this pathetic cause. Tails… I kill you, burn this school to the ground from the inside and go join the same psychopath that’s been trying to kill me since I was an infant.”

I licked my lips, eyes darting between the Galleon and Dumbles’ face. For the slightest moment, I saw a frown appear on his forehead, his eyes widening ever so slightly, in worry, in fear…

I flipped the coin, silence echoed throughout the room as the coin twisted through the air, then, slowly, began to plummet. I caught the coin and slammed it down onto Dumbles’ desk. Ever so slowly, I withdrew my hand.

Tails. Two words, a flash of green light and the mighty Albus Dumbledore was dead, slumped over his desk, that look of shock carved upon his face for eternity. Turning on the spot, a plan already forming in my mind, I headed out through the door, throwing several Incendios back over my shoulder, feeling the heat from the office warm my back as I made my way down the revolving stairs.

This was going to be an Interesting summer to say the least.

~~

Well, there it is... all 1,111 words of it. It took a little over a half hour to write.. it's late, I haven't spell checked it, grammar checked it, basically, I just wrote it then copied & pasted.

I hope this revives the thread for a while even if it is just to flame & laugh at my pathetic attempt. Someone could probably make something very smutty of that line, but hey... that's life for ya.

Yes, I know I took a lot into my own hands here such as Grindelwald dying, not being imprisioned, changing a Joker-like Harry for Two-Face... I can't write the Joker, sorry, i'm not... I haven't quite snapped yet to be able to right that legendary character =).

Here's hoping for some good stories tomorrow =).

B ~.

 

That . . . is a beautiful version of a snapped Harry, the quote didn't quite mesh, maybe if you could relate it to a past wizard who was a fallen hero . . .

But still nice.

 

I have to agree. It was pretty good for a first attempt. Few rough spots, I agree with the quote not meshing in well. The other part I found a little hard to digest was Dumbledore not moving upon Harry saying the alternatives.

 

You know, that quote would probably work better in DH. Can you see it? 19 years later...

 

Sigh, 1318 Words.

Incorruptible

​

They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape-


And when the creature spoke, it used Harry’s mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move…


“If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…”


Dumbledore scanned the room, eyes searching for something hidden, while a foreign language left his tongue. Through the pain, Harry felt his eyes open and saw the tall wizard glancing frantically around the Atrium. Hatred and pent-up emotions rose to the surface, years of torture endured at the Dursleys and at the orphanage, the filthy muggles…


The need to punish Dumbledore became all encompassing. A foreign emotion entered him. He wanted the old man to hurt, to scream in agony.


Holly and phoenix feather turned against the tall wizard, ‘Greatness shall befall you, Tom Riddle,’ said Ollivander, and he yelled “Crucio!”


The Unforgivable Curse echoed around the Atrium and Dumbledore dove to the side at the last second, belying his advanced age. The creature brought a memory to the surface and Harry recalled the torment, freak they called him, just like Dennis and Amy Bishop. Anger filled his mind and the pain lessened.


“Harry, get a hold of yourself,” exclaimed Dumbledore, fear and sadness lined his face. “You must repel him from your mind, think! Think of Sirius!”


Flashes of Sirius filled his mind. A Firebolt, a present at Christmas, red eyes turned green and a tear came loose. Dumbledore approached cautiously, his left hand raised and wand sitting loosely in the other.


“That’s it Harry, you must remember. He cared about you deeply.” The headmaster’s voice was soft and calm, almost soothing even. Harry's scar erupted in white hot agony.


Manipulation and Diversion! He doesn’t care what you feel. Visions of Dumbledore avoiding him filled Harry’s mind. The cold attitude, the distant disposition, all led to proof that the old man sought to manipulate him in this moment. It was Dumbledore’s fault. Sirius left because he was tired of being locked up. He traded one prison for another. Harry’s vision turned red and anger manifested itself into being.


An Impulse Jinx snapped forward to meet the bearded wizard, only to be deflected by a Protego. Desperate to get through to the young teen, Dumbledore pressed forth with a verbal response.


“Close your mind, Harry! Let me help you.”

Help you? He has hurt you more than you have ever imagined. Eleven years in a cupboard with the Dursleys, treated like an aberration, and causing the death of Sirius Black. Strike him down. He will discard you when your purpose ends.


An image took shape in his mind of an Elbow disfigurement curse used on criminals in Albania. Harry mentally incanted the non-verbal curse and it rocketed out of his wand, leaving blue motes behind.


There was a bright flash as Dumbledore spelled the curse away. He leapt to action, a powerful jinx shot off with a bang. A memory of a younger Dumbledore took shape in Harry’s mind. Conjuration of precious metals should only be…utmost caution…with blazing speed, a shining silver shield materialized out of thin air. The jinx struck the curved shield with a deep gong and blew it inwards so that it was now concave.


The former Supreme Mugwump opened his mouth but was cut off as water from the Atrium fountain shot forward and trapped the wizard in a swirling globe of liquid. There was a thunderous boom as lighting left Harry’s wand but the wizard Disapparated.


Harry glanced frantically around the Atrium and roared, “Show yourself!”
The headmaster responded a moment later with Stunner and glowing golden ropes. Before the spells could hit him, Harry spun on the spot and Disapparated away. A moment later the darkness receded and the coils around his chest relaxed. The Curse of Blindness shot towards the venerable warlock’s back but his elation was dashed when the curse collided with a blazing azure globe of protection. As if in prayer, Dumbledore gripped his wand with both hands before raising it to the heavens. The wand sliced downward as a beam of pure white light rocketed towards the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry crouched, and then jumped over the burning hot spell.


“Oh no, no, no, Dumbledore,” chuckled Harry. “Just when the fun was about to start. Tell me, have you thought what you would do if the Ministry fell? Can you see the chaos? The sheep, when provided with order and control, fall happily in line. But when it falls apart, so do they. Do you know what it would take to turn them against each other?”


Harry raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore and the Master Legilimens spotted a glimpse of his thoughts.


“Ah, what is the saying Headmaster?” He mocked the warlock before responding to his own question. “Like whipping three muggles with one spell. Your father’s own words?”


“That will not happen, Tom. I won't allow that to pass,” Dumbledore replied with great force.


“Then stop me. We both know you won’t hurt us. Precious Harry Potter, to what length would you go through to protect him,” taunted the raven haired wizard.


Cold fury masked the old warlock and he responded by simultaneously Vanishing the air and charming it to repel away from the teen. The wizard was trapped inside the resulting vacuum.


Instantly, Harry held his breath, realizing that there was not much time before this duel would be over. His eyes widened as a memory rose to the surface…With Transfiguration, one can increase the amount, and even change the very nature of the material you start with… and armed with that knowledge, set forth to acquire oxygen. Harry’s outer robes split and lengthened while wrapping themselves around his head. A Bubble Head charm popped into existence as the black robes faded to nothingness. Enough air to verbalize several spells but only one was required…


He opened himself to hatred, hatred of the person and of their mediocrity, and the desire to end a person’s life. A multitude of visions entered his head, conflicting emotions raging inside of him and Harry incanted the final spell.


“Avada-” Harry began as a shrilling violet beam erupted from Dumbledore’s wand, but it was too late.


“-Kedavra!” The violet color curse slammed into Harry’s arm, rupturing the muscle and twisting the bone, a mere second before the Unforgivable left his wand. I am triumphant! A deep and agonizing pain could be felt in his wand arm and Harry plastered a triumphant grin on his face. A bronze statue crashed in front of Dumbledore, ready to take the curse for its master, only for the Unforgivable to miss and streak by the animated guardian. Dumbledore’s cold fury vanished, crumbling into shock, horror, and then defeat. Likewise, Harry underwent a similar transformation, victory was replaced by fear and remorse as ruby orbs turned emerald green.


The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, crashed to the ground with a thud. His features, frozen in death, spoke of terror and shock. This look was mirrored by the various Ministry workers who had witnessed the clash. To further agitate their bewildered state, Voldemort appeared without a sound at the foot of the former Minister. He glanced around the Atrium, causing many to scream in fright and seek escape. Others were rooted in their fear and watched the scene unfold. Voldemort gave Harry an exultant grin that looked gruesome on the reptillian face. Ignoring the bystanders, he addressed Harry in Parseltongue.


“In the end Harry Potter, you’ll either die a hero or you’ll live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”



"Well done, Harry Potter." The English words echoed in Ministry workers' minds and destroyed the morale of many.



The Dark Lord raised his wand and with a great bellow, the Dark Mark materialized just below the roof of the Atrium, marking the downfall of three wizards who had tried to resist him. Several powerful spells rushed forth from Dumbledore’s wand but the dark wizard was already gone, leaving nothing behind but the ethereal illumination from his Dark Mark.
-


A thought of mine on what would happen if Voldemort manipulated the bond between them with Harry's strong emotions, mastery of Legilimency, and his ability to possess. Voldemort can be repelled by love but the link is still there and with that is an open hole for further attack.

 

I would enjoy seeing that one developed into a full fic.

 

Yup.. Out-strips mine by a mile =(.

Sorry about the line not fitting - I tried several but didn't like any of them & I was low on space.. same reasoning for Dumbles lack of reaction.. I could go back & edit it though, probably be closer to 13/1400 though.

 

The only problem I had with your fic BsuperB was giving Dumbledore that idiotic nickname. It's just childish and detracts from the persona you were trying to carve for Harry.

 

I don't know how often you write neren, or if you have already written a few fics, but if you wrote that into a full-length story, I would certainly read it. Harry/Dumbledore on the run from the Ministry while Voldemort takes control? And with the proof that Harry killed Fudge present in each Aurors minds...

That was too good to be a one-shot.

 

I experienced a moment of reverence, neren. Continue by all means if you feel the slightest inclination!