'He looked at his new hand, gleaming silver as the rotten remains of his old arm turned into dust with nary a flick of his wand'

'I am back' Albus Dumbledore intoned and Harry couldn't help but feel intimidated.

 

I'll take CheddarTrek's first, since she responded first. Then I'll do Rache's as well, unless anyone opts to snag it up. Methinks I can even turn both into full-length stories - we'll see.

 

Pretty sure this has been done before in the page 9 of this very thread. The original version gave me nightmares. :facepalm

 

Someone mind giving me a prompt?

 

"You shouldn't have returned, Harry."

"I know."

"So what do you plan to do?"

"Burn the fucker down."

 

Mind throwing me one too? Something serious, please. And if it features Dumbledore, even better.

Edit: The sooner the better. I'd like to write it tonight.

 

"I have a spell that would make all this go away. I have a dozen, in fact. Do you understand why I could never use any of them?"

 

Okay. Yeah. Challenge accepted.

 

Thanks man. Here we go:





“You shouldn’t have returned Harry,” Neville said.

Harry cocked his head at the cocooned man plastered on the wall. Neville’s face, no longer flesh and bone, craned to peer down at Harry.

“I know,” Harry said, but he didn’t. He was just as trapped as Neville was now. Nothing to live for, and only one thing to die for. He had been born to come back, and he had.

“So what do you plan to do?” Neville’s neck receded back into the black sludge that his being had become and he returned to staring ominously at the ceiling.

Harry blinked once, then again. What a stupid question. “Burn the fucker down.”

Neville didn’t respond in any verbal or visible manner. Harry pivoted and started his way back down the hall.

The trophies lined the hall all the way to his destination. Friends and enemies, trapped in an eternal torment, until they became their own encasing. Undying, and far beyond dead.

The blackened sludge encased the floor he walked, and he would have been caught by it if he were any other man. The odor of the dead and undead filled his nostrils, allowing him to escape his own horrid odor for the first time in years. It had been the constant reminder of his exile, so it was only fitting it did not accompany him upon return.

Barnabas the Barmy’s tapestry was nowhere to be found, in its place the encased form of Antonin Dolohov.

Harry tapped his wand against his chin. Every British witch and wizard he had ever known was inside these walls. He only knew three wizards or witches that weren’t British, and of those he knew only the younger Delacour sister lived.

Dolohov spoke, low and guttural and very wrong.

“I didn’t think-”.

Harry smiled up at him. “If you don’t think, you shouldn’t talk.”

Dolohov quieted, staring forlornly at the entrance to the Room.

Harry spoke again, maddened beyond reason, pacing in front of the entrance thrice. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t the time.”

The entrance formed, marred the same as the rest of castle. La Porte de l'Enfer, The Thinker prominently displayed, surrounded by an eight headed serpent Harry knew didn’t belong there.

The Room had a very grim sense of humor.

Harry tapped his foot impatiently and the door swung open in response.

Harry knew it wasn’t the real chamber, but Harry couldn’t help but be reminded of his second year.

This was Riddle’s own chamber. A full body monument to Salazar spun, suspended in the middle of the chamber, and under it sat a rather innocent looking cabinet, atop it a silver diadem. Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange hung, cocooned against the wall to the left and right of the entrance.

Harry didn’t take his eyes off the cabinet. Oh how he wished it had only been a passageway.

He drew closer, and the statue stopped spinning as it faced him.

“Ah, so the Prodigal Son returns.” It was cold and cruel, yet held an undertone of pleased smugness.

Harry jumped in mock surprise, spinning on his heel. His eyes narrowed, and he stood completely still.

“Oh. I was afraid it was somebody important,” Harry said.

Cedric’s face twisted into a cruel smile. “Sorry to disappoint. But I must wonder why it took you so long. And to think, I was almost starting to miss you.”

Harry turned back to the cabinet, unable to look at the blood red eyes that haunted him so. Was Cedric Diggory still trapped beneath the madness of the Riddle’s possessive spirit? Why couldn’t that rat just have killed the poor Hufflepuff?

“We have so much to catch up on. Would you care for some tea?” The voice of Voldemort asked, still smug and cold and evil and wrong.

“I’m sorry, but I just haven’t the time.” But who did? Harry smiled again as he lifted his wand.

Beasts of flame erupted from the holly stick. Lions and phoenixes, all dancing to Harry’s tune. A lion let out a fiery roar and charged Voldemort, who stood unaffected as it extinguished around him.

Three fiery phoenixes flew above, circling the Dark Lord like vultures. They plunged at Voldemort simultaneously, all accomplishing nothing as they landed head first and dissipated.

Harry thought maybe there was a pun in there about pyromania and Pyrrhic victories.

Harry lifted his wand for the final time. A great stag erupted, too cold to be ice, and too hot to be fire.

It lowered its head and charged. The antlers pierced the cabinet, and the mighty beast flickered like a light.

The Room was engulfed in its wake, and Hogwarts went out altogether, like a candle.




What is this, I don't even.

Somehow I decided to write an Alice in Wonderland crossover.

/shrug

 

Someone toss me a challenge? Just no pure humor challenge, please. I'm absolutely awful at it and don't ever plan or want to write a humor story.

 

For Samuel Black:

1,500-3,000 words should cover it. When you're finished, post a challenge and I'll take it.

 

*throws story on floor*

Another!



Prompt that is.

Please.

 

Nice. I'll take a crack at it after work tomorrow and throw it up tomorrow evening.

 

A shadow passed over them. Harry couldn't stand it. He shook his head, but forced himself to look up and see what else was about to kill them.

"See here, Harry!" he heard Hagrid bellow. "Dint I say tha' dragons were seriously misunderstood creatures?"

 

Can someone throw something my way? Preferrably something neither hard nor sexual/shippy.

 

I'm holding you to that!

You're obviously taking all the fun out of this for me. No sex and it's not hard?! What's the point? But still--

 

I have been reading the challenges and entries here for the past two weeks rather than work and I saw this challenge had not been answered so I picked it. Hope no one minds.

I have gotten back to writing after a really long time and where best to start than DLP. So my second submission after the DLP anthology #2 after a break of almost 5 years.

Words: 1123
Time: Slightly more than an hour

The Dementor of Azkaban
​

​

It was quiet. Unnaturally quiet. The constant howl of the wind which had plagued Harry's sleep for years was still, and that rattling breath which he had nearly become accustomed to was gone. The only light came from the single tiny window carved into a jagged stone wall at the end of the hallway, and it was hardly enough to illuminate his cell – not for a normal person anyway. For Harry, years spent in the dark had prompted his eyes to adjust enough so that he could faintly see the outlines of his cot and a roughly hewn basin at the back of the cell. Scanning the room as intently as he could, Harry noticed that the cold he had come to associate with the Dementors was gone – and in its place was a smell awful enough to make him gag on his own breath.

That was when the first drop of something wet fell from the ceiling and Harry looked up. At first it was hard for him to make out what exactly was dripping down. Then he realized a small hole was forming in the ceiling. The ceiling was melting! Very slowly at first then it grew in size until it was large enough for a human body to pass through comfortably. And in floated four figures that Harry could barely make out. All he could note was that they were robed and the supposed leader was quite tall.

​

A wand tip suddenly flared to life illuminating the room that Harry had spent 5 years in. Harry blinked and flinched back at the sudden light. He raised his arm to cover his eyes as the new comers all leaned forward to look at him. One of the figures burst out in laughter at the sight of the once upon a time chosen one. “Ooh little Potty is now even more little.” Harry recognized the voice immediately. Bellatrix. He shifted his hands slightly. Letting his eyes slowly adjust to the light. He knew he was a sorry sight. His hair and beard had probably obscured most of his face now, and his limbs were mere skeletons covered by skin.​

But the god awful smell had grown stronger as he finally recognized the tall figure who had lit up his wand. Lord Voldemort. He drew a rattled breath and suddenly the cold was back. Almost as if a Dementor had come back. But they couldn’t have. Voldemort had commanded them away so that he could talk to the high risk prisoner Harry Potter.​

“So this is what has become of the savior of the world. Mere bones and skin.” Voldemort said as he turned to survey the room that Harry had called home for five years. The cot and the basin, with clear evidence of scratching by human nails on them, drew a smirk from the barely human face as he turned to look back at Harry. He had managed to see the face of the other figures recognizing Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape apart from the two who had announced their presence. ​

“You know why I am here Potter?” Voldemort said as he leaned closer to Harry. “Because today I have won. I have won the war! The old fool fell today and Hogwarts burns.” ​

Harry tilted his head slightly and looked at Voldemort slightly puzzled. He could feel the happiness and euphoria that the man in front of him was feeling. Strangely the happiness and giddiness was feeding him, giving him strength. He started feeling the strange feeling that he hadn’t felt for a long time now. Joy. He drew in a long breath and the temperatures dropped a little more.​

Harry had never been fed in the prison. As he grew weaker and his life began drawing strength from his magic, he realized that just as the Dementors were feeding from him he could feed from them. Magic, pure magic just hung around them. The ones who had fed on souls had the most and freshest magic. And Harry could feed off on that. His magic grew stronger as his body weakened. But he no longer cared about the body; the magic was intoxicating and enticing. But the Dementors magic was nothing compared to the strength he was gaining from the happiness in Voldemort.​

He leaned back and gave a howl of laughter as he realized what had happened to him, what was happening to him. His voice box rupturing at the sudden forceful usage after a long time of disuse. Voldemort suddenly faltered, confusion replacing the smirk on his snake like face. It was then he realized the dropped temperatures and the sudden feeling of desolation. ​

“Stand aside silly girl” His worst memory. That’s how it started, the day he lost his body, the day he almost died. The Dementor effect. But how? He had never felt it; he had undergone several rituals that prevented Dementors from affecting him. It created a smell to come from his body that the Dementors could not stand.​

He turned to point his wand to Harry but with an inhuman screech Harry had already leapt on him throwing him back. He landed hard on his back with Harry on top of him. Their faces very close. Both smelling awful to each other. With a sudden flourish Harry leaned forward and placed his mouth over Voldemorts and sucked. It was just heavenly for Harry as the soul came out and went into Harry. There was no bright light or fireworks to indicate the sublime power that came into Harry. He felt the changes to his body immediately as his skin tightened, putrefying and thickening. His eyes sunk into their sockets until they disappeared and were no longer visible. But Harry could now see; better than he had ever seen before. ​

Voldemort’s wand flickered out as the magic left the body. Harry glided over to Bellatrix and had her soul before the other two could move. Snape snapped out from his terror faster than his companion, raising his wand and yelling, “Expecto Patronum”​

A silvery mist appeared from his wand which Harry swatted aside. The feeling of desolation and cold increased as more Dementors appeared at the door. Harry’s breath rattled as his breath increased the feeling of hopelessness for Snape and Malfoy. Both their wands fell to the floor. The clattering overshadowed by the deep putrid breaths of the Dementors.​

The Dementors surged forward to finish off the remaining humans. Dementors did not communicate, they only obeyed power. But that was now over. They would no longer obey any human. He was now the power they gravitated to. Their hope of finally getting away from under the thumb of humans. Finally a hope for freedom!


​

 

Sorry about the delay for responding to this challenge. I really fell in love with the prompt and tried to do it justice. The ending... well I just really have some mixed feelings about it. I pulled in the awesome CheddarTrek to help because I wasn't sure. But yeah! Let's do this:





Eclipse


A shadow passed over them. Harry couldn't stand it. He shook his head, but forced himself to look up and see what was about to try and kill them next.

"See here, Harry!" he heard Hagrid bellow . "Din't I say tha' dragons were seriously misunderstood creatures?"

Hah. Misunderstood? Hagrid didn't know the half of it.

Harry had almost given up. But now… he had found the beast.

The jaws opened.
-
-
-
-
-
It started after the day he defeated a Dark Lord.

Every night...

Harry thought he would live the rest of his life with satisfaction. He had killed the bad guy, got the girl, and accomplished his life's purpose with years to spare.

What to do for 120 years?

His plan was to get married, have kids, and live the rest of his life secure in the knowledge that he had saved countless lives. He would be happy, content, and perfectly fine.

...when the moon shines…

Nothing ever worked out like he planned. So, he escaped.

He escaped to a world of his own. Inside of his head, there was only peace.

The dreams came at night. Going through the motions of the world and relishing every moment of his own. He had completed his purpose, and now he had only his thoughts and dreams.

...I become alive...

He flew. His leathery wings flapped intermittently as he soared through the clouds. Nothing to worry about, everything taken care of. He could forget human worries and feel the wind over his scales.

Years flew by. The dreams became too real.

...and when the sun arrives...

The fire out of his mouth became too hot and the exertion of flying left him too tired. Was he a man dreaming of being a beast, or just a beast dreaming of being a human?

His escape was ruined, and the lines of the two worlds blurred. A nasty cutting hex during a routine investigation-gone-wrong prevented him from taking to the skies. Kreacher's filling dinners left him too lethargic to move his wings. The constant fighting with his lover maddened him until he couldn't focus on the destination, causing him to crash into the town he circled so often.

...the dream dies.
-
-
-
-
The office was cold and empty in the early morning, save for two. Harry Potter tiredly passed his co-worker's work space, catching sight of the Daily Prophet on the desk.

"Mind if I take a look at this, Andrews?" Harry asked, grabbing the paper to examine it more closely.

Andrews waved him on, and Harry started on his trek to his own desk.

"You okay? Look like you got done fighting a dark lord." Andrews asked, chuckling to himself as he turned to his desk.

Harry smiled wistfully as he looked at the page. "Just a little off kilter. Never enough sleep nowadays."

Andrews gave a cheeky grin. "Wouldn't be the missus now would it?"

"No, no, not that…" Harry trailed off, shaking his head. Andrews turned back to his paperwork. Harry's eyes dropped to the article that had caught his eye.

"You hear? MacFustys're starting to slip. Hebridean trying to kill itself in, er… Hirta I think," Andrews said. The story spilled out in front of Harry's eyes as the wizard said it. The photographer had only caught the escape. A short picture of a great black beast lifting off towards the volcanic hills.

Hirta. The Island of Death.

"Hey! Where're you going?" Andrews called out. Harry was already closing the door.
-
-
-
"Sure about this 'Arry? Dragons're misunderstood creatures. Every'un d'serves their chance a' freedom."

"It's too dangerous to be left alone. We need to take care of it before it becomes a problem."

"Plenty o' dragons muckin' about on their own, 'Arry."

Kreacher appeared next to Harry with a pop, wringing his hands in consternation and looking as if holding his tongue was causing him physical harm. Harry gave the elf a quick glance and pocketed a fast food toy. Hagrid stored a giant sock in his huge coat.

Portkeying was much more pleasant alone.

"Alright then, let's get this over with."
-
-
"This was not a good idea!" Harry yelled as he dodged a blast of molten lava.

Hagrid's 16 inch wand flashed out above the rock he was crouching against. A wave of water rushed out, spilling over the pool of lava.

The volcanic avatar roared in agony and steam spilled out, fogging up Harry's glasses. Lava streamed out of the creature's hands and Harry retreated behind his own boulder.

Kreacher snapped his fingers and the stone cover that hid the house elf sped towards the lava spirit. The giant rock hit it full on and the creature receded into its pool. Kreacher snapped a second time and the rock returned to its former position in front of the elf.

Harry pointed his wand at the boulder closest to the pit. The levitation charm took effect and the rock flew steadily towards the edge. Once only a fraction remained on the ground, Harry halted its progress.

"Kreacher! Hold this thing in place!" Harry called over the roar of the volcano's spirit. Kreacher stuck out a single hand to cast his magic and Harry lowered his wand.

Despite the sacrilege he was performing, Harry continued his plan to deface the locals' Samhain circle. He dashed closer toward the pit, doing his best to stay a small target.

A blast of lava forced him to dive behind a waist-high rock that stretched double his height. Harry scraped against the ground roughly as another blast hit his cover.

"Aguamenti!" Hagrid shouted from some place Harry couldn't see.

He thanked whatever divine being had inspired him to bring along the half-giant.

Harry pushed himself off the ground, starting again at a sprint toward the boulder that Kreacher held in place.

Harry skidded toward a stop at the rock. He needed to hurry before the creature hit one of its targets.

He jammed his wand under the stone, touching where ground met rock. Harry drew his wand in a short vertical line, finishing with a small 's' at the bottom.

Harry could see Hagrid blast a piece of cover towards the spirit.

"Kreacher!" Harry shouted. The house elf lowered his hand and turned to help the half-giant.

The sticking charm held. The rock balanced on the edge precariously.

Harry placed his wand on the rock as his mind went blank. Was contact better or worse for simple geometric Transfiguration?

Harry weaved his wand in an intricate pattern across the stone, the desired image floating in his mind. The rock shifted before his eyes into a disk large enough to cover the pit and strong enough to contain the spirit.

Harry sat on the floor and heaved a great sigh. He needed to exercise more.
-
Hagrid was almost too good at tracking.

The dragon's gaping maw sped closer.

Once you know the meanings, you can forget the words.

It came out all at once; meanings without words. A song without a tune. Harry thought he had whispered it, but the noise drowned out all.

Take what you need from the valley of defeat...

The jaws shut, and the flames consumed the beast.

And if the sky should fall…

Harry felt it enter all at once. He felt all the emotions. He felt the rage and the all-consuming fire that lived within.

Don't try to use your feet.

Scales sprouted from skin and a tail lashed behind him violently. Shoulder blades forcefully exited his body and the fire claimed his throat.

Just remember your wings.







So yeah, thanks again to Ched. This one wouldn't stop swirling in my head and almost cost me a Latin test. Just kidding, but it definitely didn't help my concentration.


If someone could give me one more prompt? I think this will be my last one for a while.