Yeah, I might have just thrown it in at the last second. >.>

A pretty easy fix I think, just a couple more paragraphs here and there to flesh it out. Gimme a sec.

Edit: Altered the final part a bit. Must agree that it's more than a little OOC for Dresden to give his full name no matter what. I also skimmed the bloodlust portions and gave 'em a quick fix that I can flesh out more later if I end up adding to this.

So, uh... Enjoy?

 

I'll give it a try, but later.

 

A New Challenger Has Appeared: Whoever wants

Length: 1000-2000 words

Line: "Vanity, definitely my favorite sin."

Yeah, I watched this movie lately, but if someone doesn't get the reference or doesn't want to go that way, I'm sure they can think of other interesting ways to incorporate this in a story.

 

Quote: There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.

3 hours and 2122. How'd I do?

~*~*~​

Hunting of Men​

~*~*~​

Stepping out of the Floo, Kingsley found Harry waiting for him, just as he always did.

“I’ve got a new contract for you,” he said without preamble. He pulled a shrunken file from his pocket, resizing it with a flick of his wrist. “The target’s Ian Breton, thirty one. We’ve got conclusive evidence that he’s murdered three wizards and at least seventeen muggles. He sent three members of the fugitive apprehension team to St. Mungo’s when they went to arrest him. That was a week and a half ago. A sailor we arrested yesterday on smuggling charges admitted to taking him to Norway in return for leniency. The file’s got everything we know.”

“What’s the fee?” Harry asked, taking the file. “Is the contract open or exclusive? What about the target’s condition?”

“The contract’s exclusive but you know how that goes, if you don’t show that you’re making progress then I’ll have to make it open. The fee’s eight thousand to be paid upon the completion of the contract. Standard conditions for bringing him in.” Standard conditions were alive if possible, dead if the target made things hard. A dead target would result in an investigation to ensure that the bounty hunter hadn’t just murdered the target, though the investigation was usually cursory in nature. Ministries rarely posted dead or alive bounties and when they did they weren’t in the habit of advertising them.

“I’ll need expenses,” Harry said. “Say, five hundred upfront with the promise of reimbursement for anything over that. International portkeys are expensive.”

“I’ll give you one hundred upfront and reimbursement upon the presentation of receipts,” Kingsley replied.

“Two fifty upfront and reimbursement upon the presentation of pensieve memories. It’s bad form to bribe someone and ask for a receipt.”

“Two hundred up front, reimbursement upon the presentation of pensieve memories and I’ll arrange your first portkey. You’ll head to Norway first, right?”

“Unless you’ve got any other leads?” Kingsley shook his head in the negative. “Norway it is then. Where in Norway?”

“A little magical village called Oppgjor.”

~*~*~​

It took three galleons and some basic intimidation to get one of the dockside whores in Oppgjor to admit to having seen Breton disembark from the smuggler’s boat and go into a pub called Valhalla. It took a second visit to find out which Valhalla – there were three in Oppgjor, all near the docks around which the town was built. Breton had stayed in the nicest one.

By the time he got to the right Valhalla Harry was irritated and sliding towards being pissed off. The second visit to the whore was the cause of his foul mood. It was a simple mistake, thinking that a Point Me spell would provide all the directions he needed to find the right pub, but one that chafed. In his business any mistake was a stupid mistake, especially when it could be avoided.

From the female bartender he found out that Breton drank vodka, had enquired about travelling to Germany and that he, Harry, might like to meet her for a drink after she finished her shift. He regretfully declined the invitation for the time being, promising to take her up on the offer the next time he was in Oppgjor, and set about making his own arrangements to travel to Germany.

While he waited for the international portkey to Germany Harry pulled out a list of properties belonging to Breton that had been in the information packet provided by Kingsley. He found a townhouse in Berlin on the list and came to two conclusions. One, Breton was heading for the townhouse and two, he really wasn’t very good at evading his pursuers. Getting away with murder was one thing – especially when you had magic and most of your victims were muggles – but evading a bounty hunter was something else entirely. Breton knew how to avoid leaving forensics but he didn’t have a clue about obscuring his trail.

If he’d been new to the game Harry would have wondered why the Ministry was willing to shell out a nice chunk of gold when an auror could have found out everything he had with the same ease. The answer was one of the reasons Harry became a bounty hunter instead of an auror.

Politics.

British aurors couldn’t just follow a criminal into Norwegian territory. They had to liaise with local authorities and get permission to search, which could take precious days, and since they were pretty sure Oppgjor was only a pit stop they knew that they might have to liaise with other European authorities. If Breton was smart he would have withdrawn some of the gold that he inherited when his parents were killed during the war and travelled through Europe, avoiding properties that were known to be his and crossing as many borders as he could. Doing that would have made tracking him hell for the authorities.

A bounty hunter didn’t have to worry about borders though, especially not in the wizarding world which had looser laws concerning such people than many muggle countries. Hiring a bounty hunter was the quickest way to cut through the politics and get the criminal.

~*~*~​

Berlin in winter was cold. Nothing that a warming charm couldn’t cure but it was still cold. Like the Black manor Breton’s townhouse was charmed against muggle eyes and warded well beyond Harry’s scant curse breaking skills. It took him a day and a half to confirm that it was occupied and get in contact with a freelance curse breaker that he’d worked with before and negotiate payment for the services of him and his crew over a phone line that crackled and hissed and gave every impression that it was going to fail at any moment.

Negotiations complete he settled in to wait for Mubarak and his crew to travel from Cairo to Berlin. Since an attack plan was only as good the intelligence it was based on Harry took over a small room in the townhouse opposite Breton’s, charming it to make the owners avoid it while he was there, and set up a small, one person tent that was basically a single room apartment on the inside to give him some of the comforts of home while he watched Breton’s house.

Watching through a pair of omnioculars with a record function Harry discovered that Breton was occupying the house and had hired a pair of bodyguards when all three of them left the townhouse to do some shopping. Clearly Breton wasn’t totally inept, though good bodyguards wouldn’t have let him go out.

Reviewing the recording Harry determined that Breton’s minders weren’t big names in the wand for hire trade – those witches and wizards he knew by sight. He hoped that they were just local hires. He toyed with the idea of bringing in an extra fighter or two of his own but decided that he was capable of handling the three of them on his own. And if he wasn’t ...

Well, he probably wouldn’t be alive to regret the mistake.

~*~*~​

“You set?” Harry asked Mubarak.

The stocky Egyptian nodded. “I’ve got four men set to bring down the house’s wards and myself and one other will maintain the anti-escape wards and concealment wards. We can begin when you are ready,” he said in lightly accented English.

“Bring ‘em down,” Harry replied.

Mubarak nodded and issued a command in Arabic to his team. The hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end as the curse breakers went to work.

“Three minutes,” Mubarak said.

“I’ll get into position.”

~*~*~​

The wards fell without fanfare.

One moment they were standing and the next they weren’t. The instant they fell new, temporary wards settled over the townhouse – Mubarak’s anti-escape wards and concealment wards. The latter were to stop the muggles from hearing the fight and coming to investigate.

Vanishing a side window Harry eased into the house’s kitchen, searching for his target with a Homenum Revelio. The spell reported them to be in a room across the hall from the kitchen. Stepping out of the kitchen, Harry blew apart the door to the next room.

Subtlety had never been his strongpoint.

He conjured a wind and threw the resulting debris and dust across the room in a mini-hurricane. He took in the room at a glance – Breton and his bodyguards standing in front of the fireplace, spilled floo powder at their feet.

“Amitto Dolens!” It was a dark combination curse, a pain curse wrapped in a banisher, and it was all the cause Harry needed to kill the caster and claim self-defence. He knocked the curse aside and replied with a cutter so fast that the bodyguard responsible for it didn’t even have time to dodge, let alone raise a shield. The cutter opened up a spine deep wound from the bodyguard’s groin to his throat, killing him instantly.

Breton fired a blasting curse but Harry summoned a chair in its path and banished the resulting splinters back into the serial killer’s face even as he dodged a pair of bludgeoners from the remaining bodyguard. Breton threw up a blanket shield, stopping the splinters and two fast piercers from Harry. Ignoring a flesh-eating curse that splashed harmlessly against his dragonhide bracer, Harry thrust his wand forward and summoned the flames from the fireplace behind Breton and his bodyguard.

The fire hit the back of their legs and headed straight for their groins at Harry’s direction. The blanket shield dropped fast as both wizards turned their attention to the fire, leaving them easy prey for a pair of stunners. Extinguishing the flames with a flick of his wand Harry approached the unconscious men and used rune-etched handcuffs and an enchanted rope that he carried on his equipment belt to restrain them.

“It’s done Mubarak,” he said into the charmed communication stone that he wore on his wrist guard. “Let the wards fall and get out of here.”

When the wards fell Harry used Breton’s floo connection to contact the German aurors and appraise them of what had happened. He could have not involved them but it was cleaner to tell them what happened and have the bodyguard’s death sanctioned rather than run the risk of it being traced back to him at a later date. Kingsley would appreciate that he’d kept things reasonably above board by involving the Germans after the fact and not killing Breton and the second bodyguard when the opportunity to take them alive presented themselves.

An appreciative customer tended to be a repeat customer.

~*~*~​

“That’s some nice work Harry,” Kingsley said. “Some damn nice work. The Germans issued a complaint but it was strictly pro forma. They know that Breton would have started killing again if he wasn’t caught and apparently the guy you killed was connected to a whole bunch of unsolved crimes. They had to release his partner though, technically he didn’t do anything illegal. They did pass on that he’d sworn to get revenge for his dead mate.”

Harry shrugged. “He’s not that good with a wand and if he had any real power he wouldn’t have been playing bodyguard. If it comes down to it I’ll kill him.” He said it easily, like the thought of killing a man didn’t bother him.

It didn’t.

It hadn’t since he was sixteen.

“This is for you,” Kingsley said, handing Harry a Gringotts receipt. “Eight thousand galleons plus reimbursement for your various expenses.”

Harry took the receipt and made a quick perusal of it to ensure that it matched what he believed that he was owed. When he was satisfied he folded it away and looked up to find Kingsley staring at him, his expression curious.

“Question, Kingsley?”

“Why do you do it?” The question came out in a rush, as though he was trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve. “You don’t need the money. Even with what you spent to help defeat Voldemort your inheritance from Sirius and your father should be more than enough to live on, not to mention the bounties you got during the war and the ones you’ve taken since then. You’re not doing it for justice. If it was about justice you’d be an auror. So why?”

Harry considered the question and said, “There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.” Recognition flashed across Kingsley’s face. He knew the quote. “I do it because I enjoy it and because I’m good at it. Not exactly high ideals but I’ve never claimed to have any great moral authority.”

 

Nicely done, though when I issued the challenge I thought it would end up as an Assassin!Harry story.

 

A bit dry, but pretty well written.

 

Overall a very satisfying read. Nice work.

 

I agree. I enjoyed it. Nice writing.

 

Fingers drummed along the cottage desk, impatience clear within the rough staccato beat they made.

"All clear, see? I dun want no part of a bleeding mess to clean up, not even the wretched brats and their blood, unnerstand?" The target of said fingers gave his rough response.

A robe slid open and a parchment was set down on the table before them. The man blinked and reached up a hairy hand to grasp it, then break open the wax seal with a grimace.

He certainly wasn't as young as he used to be, and constantly chasing down the ungrateful, unworthy little monsters with their dirty shoes, their owl droppings, and their continual skirmishes and messes was not a task he could easily perform at this point of his life.

His eyes scanned through the details of the contract and he blanched for a moment, but the thought of never having to scrub the floors and wall clean again left him feeling mingled elation along with the steadfast fury throbbing against his pulse.

"Where do I sign?" He finally asked. Again, the robe slid open and this time a dark green looking quill was drawn free and offered toward him, tip first.

A scowl etched into his expression as he took up the object and felt the slight tendrils of unsavory magic lying in its hold, promising him great retribution for such a little cost... of blood.

Oh yes, he knew of Blood Quills quite well, having utilized them in his youth to torture those who got uppity and defiled the heavier sections of the school, sections where he had been forced to spend rigorous hours on a compromised scaffold system.

He could have remained in his cramped rooms and left it to a bloody House-elf! If he had only known such malignant little demons were pervading the school so thoroughly, he could have tried to rope many of them into his control to speed up the miserable hours and nights at work, but that knowledge, that amazing set of details, had been carefully concealed from him by the very man that, until that night, he had still held some measure of respect toward.

He looked down at the dotted lines and scrawled his name in, feeling the burning itch trickle across the back of his signing-hand tightly until he was through.

Then he dropped the quill down and looked up at the man facing him. "Very good, Argus Filch. Very good. You shall not be disappointed."

Filch's scowl deepened. "So I've been told all me bleeding life. I'll believe it when I see it!" He stated.

The man's fingers picked up their previous beat as if in irritation before they suddenly darted forward and scooped up the items between them. "We shall be in touch when the time comes. Make no mistake, Argus Filch, he will return; the Mark burns brighter with every day."

The chair slid back as the man stood up, but he paused and snapped his fingers. Instantly a faint pop filtered through the buzzing noise everyone else in the room within hearing distance of their table heard, and a pair of pained eyes peered up at the creatures master fearfully.

"Kremlin, gather your siblings and assist Argus Filch in his duties. I will know if you disobey, wretched beast, and we both know what that entails." He ordered it, and the House-elf shrunk even further in upon itself with a whimper.

"Good night, Caretaker," the man stated with a flicker of sardonic pleasure entering his voice. Filch grimaced and waved the good bye away like a pesky fly, focused as he was upon the set of misery filled eyes glancing back and forth between the two of them quickly.

The possibilities available to the Squib began to race throughout his mind.

---
​

Many years later, and Argus Filch had succeeded rather nicely from his usual misery induced existence.

The best times of his life were during Headmistress Umbrige's rule of the school, though for pretenses sake then and all throughout the previous years he had been forced to imitate his usual helplessness with magic.

Kremlin died within a year of service, but the remaining two brothers served him all the harder for it, and by the time Lord Voldemort had indeed announced his return to the world proper, laying claim to the Ministry, he had all but worn them to the bone as well.

Students were caught out oft and easily by them, and they in turn delivered into his own hands, where he was able to put to use the numerable and, by far, proper tools of education under the lenient eyes of Alecto Carrow during the first few weeks of service.

It was rather unfortunate that her masochistic lust outweighed his own by such a large margin, or he might have retained that ability, but Headmaster Snape seemed to insist on relegating his time toward other goals after the first month of term.

---
​

Shock raced throughout Argus mind as he watched Lord Voldemort fall before his own, reflected, Killing Curse. No! He screamed out silently, staring at the future he had envisioned flicker around the edges before fading away entirely.

It made no sense that the Potter brat could possibly topple the one man who had allowed his life some purpose and satisfaction again, a man whom lesser folk would vilify further with their preaching cries about justice, and righteousness, and other such murtlap essence.

Oh, he had no doubts about what Lord Voldemort did, but he had faithfully upheld Dumbledore's standard for over half of his life, all for nothing given the House-elves crawling over every other inch of the school and working on tasks. He wasn't even needed! The old man had played him for a fool, how as it not right to change sides and assist the Dark Lord and his servants in acquiring precious information about the schools measures?

But no. No, Potter, the chosen one, had to trample across his happiness just as the multitude of generations before him had done.

He continued to stare in shock for some time before swallowing his anger and despair. There was no remaining as he was. He would have to step back into the Light, even if only as another pretense.

===
​

Approximately 1051 words and done up in about twenty-five minutes.

Filch assists various threats in each year in return for protection when Voldemort rises again, as well as a triplicate of hitherto-unknown-to-him creatures commonly referred to as House-elves.

 

EDIT: Son of a bitch. I got an 500 internal error when I tried posting, and the other refresh didn't show shit had changed when I checked before posting again. Please delete/merge, sorry for double post.

 

Nice, I never even considered Filch for the challenge. I thought about using Lupin but I couldn't manage it. I take my hat off to you good sir.

 

Nice work, man. Plausible.

Be interesting to see another attempt at this by someone, taking a character who's a little more 'light' to public eyes apart and revealing it as a bit more of an act.

 

Can someone hit me with a (preferably short) challenge. Need something to keep my hands busy during class this afternoon.

 

Here's a short challenge:

Length: 500
Time: one hour
Prompt: "Let's take this class in a new direction..."

 

The temptation to go pedo!lockhart or gilf!mcgonagall is almost overwhelming. I'll try not to thou.

---------- Post automerged at 05:25 PM ---------- Previous post was at 02:34 PM ----------

As another Prefect walks out of my office after giving me his beginning of term report on the uselessness of another Defence teacher, I pull out a bottle and pour out a finger of scotch.

‘Another year of wasted time and potential,’ I thought to myself, looking into my glass and reminiscing over the failures of the last decade.

David Wilkus, who somehow managed to convince his seventh-year class that Nundu’s breath was a great way to remove crow’s feet and then proceeded to demonstrate. Emilia Heartbrook, caught in the worst possible situation with three second-years in an abandoned class. There was Marcus Mackwood, a man that thought hanging a first year by the ankles from his office roof was a suitable punishment for sneezing during his lecture. I hadn’t seen Dumbledore that angry since the end of the war. The disaster that was Quirinus isn't even worth dwelling over. And now, Lockhart. Not just an incompetent teacher, but if the information given to him by his cousins was accurate, a fraud as well. That Dumbledore would allow this worthless excuse of a man into his castle, into Hogwarts, without the slightest hesitation just makes you want to obliterate the entire bottle of scotch tonight, and damn your morning classes. As I reach for the bottle a rebellious voice of common sense breaks through.

‘You know, there is one thing you could do to help fix this mess.’

A smile crosses my face, and I summon my lesson plan with barely a flick of my wand.

“Lets just see how much damage we can prevent this year, shall we.”

--------OGME--------OGME--------OGME--------​

As the second years walk into the room you can’t help but smile. You’ve been reviewing last years material the last two weeks, and had told them they would begin this years exciting new material, basic household and cleaning charms, today. Other the Granger, who always has such an earnest look on her face, the class looked to be about as excited as a Flobberworm.

“Good morning everyone, I hope your all ready for another exciting class. I’ve decided to deviate from the course outline today and examine some magic I'm sure you’ll all find fascinating. Wands out everyone.”

I’ve got them all perked up now, and even Weasley has managed to at least appear awake and interested. Granger has a quill out, no doubt ready to write every word, cough and sniffle I utter. Potter is giving me the most curious look and for a moment I think he already knows what’s to come. Crafty little bugger that one is, always seems to learn whatever secret it is people are hiding from him.

“Now, let’s take this class in a new direction. Who here knows the incantation for a Stunning Charm?”

-------------------------------​

A little frustrated!Flitwick for you all. I've always wondered why the former dueling champion and the head of Ravenclaw, a house full of keeners, could sit back and allow his students to struggle and fail in such an important course, especially since many a charm are covered/used in Defence.

Probably not what you were expecting Silens, but it was either this or horrible, horrible smut.

 

Could be a good way to start a Mentor!Flitwick story except you skip between First, Second and Third Person POV.

 

I think there's already been a few MentorFlitwick stories.

 

I was thinking less Mentor!Flitwick and more just a Protector!Flitwick that made sure that everyone had at least a half-decent Defence background. I can see where it would work as a good start for Mentor though. And having a inconsistent POV is just a symptom of being unable to self-edit.

 

Well, here we go. My try at GL's evil!good-guy challenge.
One hour five minutes, roughly 1600 words.


Father,
I’m at Hogwarts now (though you probably know that – you waved me off this morning!), and I’ve been sorted. I’m doing just like you said, and keeping a diary of what goes on. But I’m going to write it to you. Only girls keep diaries, that’s what William said anyway, and he’s a boy in my dorm. The dorms are different to what I’d expected, but they’re still nice. It’s going to be great, sleeping with friends each night!

I made another great new friend on the train today, dad. He’s a third year, and he told me to call him Mark. There were a few second year boys being mean to me, saying horrid things about you and mum, from the war with You-Know-Who. But Mark walked past and hit them, told them to show some respect, even if they were on the other side to their parents! He seems well nice; do you think he could come over this summer? I’ll have to write and ask you soon.

I have to stop writing now though, lights are going out in ten minutes, and I need to find the loo!

BREAK​

Father,
I just found this down the back of my bed. Sorry I haven’t been writing in it often. Not that it matters, I guess. I don’t think you’ll ever read this anyway, and if you do, the break won’t matter.

Well we’ve just had Christmas of second year. I know I lied to you about why I wanted to stay here, but Mark was staying here this year, and I couldn’t let him be alone. Not after he spent last Christmas by himself! We’ve been talking quite a lot, not many people stayed this year, which was odd. I haven’t seen much of him apart from that though; he’s been busy revising...

Mark got me an awesome present this year, he says he got it for me for being such a good friend, but I knew it was for staying with him. He says he really liked coming over last summer. He got me a great book on flying, told me I could easily make the house team if I put in lots of practice and tried out next year!

BREAK​

Dad,
something Marcus (he says that ‘Mark’ isn’t dignified enough now he’s older, even though he’s only a fourth year.) said has been bothering me. He told me the Ministry was being unfair with muggleborns! I thought you might know, cuz you work there. But I’ve had a look through some of the books in the library here, and he was right! The laws aren’t fair at all!

I thought you’d said that England was right. That our laws were right. But Marcus showed me a book he got from Europe, and they have much better laws. Why is that dad? I wish I could write these in a letter for you, but Marcus says it’s best to have a talk about this in person, in case you misunderstood, like the teachers did when he asked them. Hopefully I won’t leave this here over the summer, and I can look through it, I might remember then.

BREAK​

I think I did quite well in my exams. I hope I did. I messed up on my charms exam though, and mixed up the slashing and drawing motions. I don’t think that it was marked too highly.

BREAK​

It was. But Flitwick says that I made up for it in the rest of my exam. I still got an E, and only just missed the O.
Marcus was right though. I looked at the marks we’d all been given, and the skewing was incredible! I would’ve thought that the professors were better than that at Hogwarts. I’m starting to believe he could be right about the rest of it too...

BREAK​

The summer holiday we went on was great this year, thanks dad! But that’s not what I’m writing about. Firstly, HARRY POTTER is starting this year! I wonder if I could be his friend, like Marcus was mine. That’d be awesome, wouldn’t it? Secondly, I wanted some advice. I was going to write to you, but I know you’ll share with mum; you always gang up and tease me about stuff like this! Maybe you’ll have grown out of that if I ever show you this?
But I bumped into this really pretty girl today. She’s my year, but she’s in Ravenclaw, just like mum! You were right, smart girls are the best. Marcus doesn’t like her much, but he said that she could be ‘worth something, at least’. I didn’t understand, but he just smiled when I asked what he meant. He said he’d tell me when I was older.
I’ve got to go now, I’m meeting her in the library, I’ve got some work to do for Quirrel, and he doesn’t accept anything if it’s late.

BREAK​

I helped Flitwick in class today with the firsties. They really aren’t good at all. At least some of them were able to levitate their feather, but Potter couldn’t get his to move very far. He isn’t a good wizard at all. Marcus was right again, living with the muggles obviously made him weaker.
But then when he got it to twitch, Flitwick gave him a pass for the lesson! They’ve started skewing the lessons now, not just the exams. Dumbledore is breaking what Hogwarts stands for!
I’m off now though, that pretty girl, Mari, said she wanted to show me something interesting by the lake. I wonder what she found?

BREAK​

WOW.
I didn’t know kissing was like that!
I can see why you kiss mum so much...

BREAK​

THAT STUPID OLD MAN.
I can’t believe he’d do that! He’s ruining the system!
FIFTY POINTS FOR A GAME OF CHESS? IS HE INSANE?
If this is what Hogwarts is going to be like now that Potter’s here, I think Marcus might be right. Dumbledore really is a muggle-loving fool.
Oh everyone clapped of course. Except the Slytherins, but everyone accepts that now. At least we can leave soon, only two more days until the summer. Marcus said I could visit his place this summer, which should be nice.

BREAK​

Potter’s the heir of Slytherin!

Well, he isn’t, but we thought it would be funny if people thought he was. Everyone knows the bloodline of the Potters – a possible link to Gryffindor, but they couldn’t be related to Slytherin.

So I and Marcus came up with a plan. The Ravenclaws might be smart, but they get all their facts from books. I lied to Mari, I told her that Potter’s mum looked really similar to a witch from your year, who didn’t come back for her final year, Willow Burke. I remember you telling me that her mum moved to the French ministry, but Mari didn’t need to know that.

It was dead funny though, because the Ravenclaws came up with all sorts of ‘proof’ that Lily Potter wasn’t really a muggleborn. I and Marcus didn’t have to much work to push it. Apparently, the Burke’s ARE sort of related to Slytherin. They all came from the same village, some marshy place up here in Scotland.

BREAK​

She cheated on me dad, what do I do?

And it was with a piece of filth. A stinking mudblood.

How DARE she?

BREAK​

I won’t be able to write much this year. Marcus said that with OWLs coming up, he’d help me study, as he already did them.

He showed me this great spell his dad showed him over the summer. I didn’t know you could remove people’s memories!

When we get good enough at it, we’ll show that piece of filth where he belongs.
Anywhere that there isn’t magic.

BREAK​

Again, Dumbledore amazed me with his stupidity. HE LET A WEREWOLF TEACH HERE ALL YEAR!

But I reckon I passed all my OWLs, even History. And then Marcus took me out to celebrate. He even brought one of Mari’s friends, some Asian girl. He showed me a few more things you could do with the memory charm. Apparently, you can make people believe all sorts of things with it.

So now she thinks she’s my girlfriend. Next year should be fun, so should the summer.
And Marcus told me something else, too...

His father’s mark was coming back. The Old Families are getting ready, in case He comes back too. Marcus didn’t say much else, but he did say how much fun his dad had had, even under the Imperius curse.

BREAK​

The World Cup was great. Especially the party afterwards. It was a shame the Aurors tried to break it up, but Marcus managed to apparate us both away. He’s a great friend dad, even though you wouldn’t agree with him. We’re going to change the world dad, make it better. Make it purer.
He also managed to tell me about what’s going on at Hogwarts this year. I reckon I might try and enter. A thousand galleons is a LOAD of money, and could really help me set up after school, with Cho too, if I still want her.
I could probably get a nice flat above Diagon for that. Although if what Marcus whispered about the mark was true, it might not be safe there for longer. And it would be polluted.

BREAK​

I did it dad. I’m the champion for Hogwarts. Now I just have to crush Potter, the frog princess, and the barbarian.
It’ll be a breeze.

FIN​

So yeah, Mark/cus was Flint, and this was supposed to all be from Cedric's PoV, in a sort of diary entry format, albeit 'to' his dad, as "diaries are for girls".

Thoughts, comments?

 

Well, wasn't expecting Cedric to pop up there, thought it was gonna be a Slytherin since Marcus was playing mentor. Is Mari Marietta?

Someone hit me with a challenge. Gonna be a slow Sunday, need something to kill it with.