What passage of writing are you most proud of?

Skeletaure · Oct 18, 2014

Here's mine, from The One He Feared:

After taking a brief detour to get changed, Harry returned with Hermione to the kitchen. The twins were still there, whispering and gesturing wildly by the cooker, but everyone else had disappeared, leaving Remus and Tonks sitting at the table alone.

“Remus!” Harry called, stepping forward to embrace him. They hugged, Remus slapping Harry on the back a few times.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” said Tonks as they pulled apart, and she kissed him on the cheek before passing him a present.

“Thanks,” said Harry, setting the present on the kitchen table to open later. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“A cuppa would hit the spot,” said Tonks, sitting back down. “It’s been a long morning.”

“Oh?” said Harry. He squeezed between the twins and tapped the kettle with his wand, refilling it, before setting it over a flame.

“Long night, more like,” said Remus, who was now investigating Harry’s small pile of presents. He picked up Hermione’s and looked at the ring. “This is nice work,” he said, examining the design. He looked at Hermione. “Your own, I take it?”

Harry fished four mugs from the cupboard. “Tea, Hermione?”

“Please,” she said, before nodding to Remus. “I couldn’t find any Potter heraldry,” she said, “so I just… well, made it up.”

“Oh, the Potters were never noble, as such,” said Remus, placing the ring back in the box. “Just rich and well-connected.”

Harry returned to the table with the tea, sliding a mug to each person. There was a moment of silence as they all blew on the hot liquid, the steam of his own misting Harry’s glasses. “You were saying something, I believe, about a long night?”

Remus nodded, looking grim. “Tracking Fenrir Greyback,” he said. “We’re hoping he’ll lead us to someone more important, but…”

“No luck so far,” said Tonks. “You-Know-Who seems to keep him at a distance.”

“I still say we take him out,” said Remus, and Harry’s eyebrows rose. Assassination, so far as he knew, was not a traditional activity of the Order of the Phoenix. “The full moon’s approaching, who knows how many more he’ll bite.”

“And then where we would be?” said Tonks, her voice carrying all the signs of a well-rehearsed argument. “We have few enough leads as it is.”

“I’m just saying,” said Remus, getting agitated, “we can--”

“So Harry,” Hermione interrupted, speaking loudly. “What were you doing all alone with Ginny?”

Though about as subtle as a niffler in a Gringotts’ vault, Hermione’s attempt to steer the conversation was a huge success: both Tonks and Remus stopped mid-sentence and swiveled to face Harry, the glint of curiosity in their eyes.

“Yes, Harry,” said Fred, who had apparently been listening. “What exactly were you doing with our sister?”

“Not besmirching her virtue, I hope,” said George, coming to rest his hands on the back of Harry’s chair. Harry’s cheeks tinged pink and he glared daggers at Hermione, who at least had the grace to look vaguely apologetic.

Tonks cackled. Apparently it ran in the Black family. “Getting a special birthday present, Harry?” she asked, grinning widely.

“Now, now,” said Remus, his own mirth barely hidden. “I’m sure they were just talking.”

“About what?” said Hermione, “the colour of Ginny’s underwear?”

“All right,” said Harry, trying to calm them, “I think that’s--”

“Ginny!” cried Fred, just as she emerged from the stairs. He waved a doughy spoon in the air like a wand. “What’ve you been doing to poor Harry?”

George laid a protective hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Not been besmirching his virtue, have you?”

Remus snorted; Harry had to resist the urge to obliviate everyone, instead sending Ginny a look that he hoped said “help me!”

Ginny smirked. “Only a little,” she said, sending Tonks off laughing again. “And he wasn’t complaining much.” Harry began to feel ganged up on.

“Only a little?” said George, looking shocked. “Don’t tell me you left him hanging?”

“How many times have we told you?” added Fred, who was clearly enjoying himself. “Once you Wingardium--”

“--you better leviosa,” completed George.

This proved too much for Remus, who almost choked on his tea as he burst out laughing. Hermione, too, was almost crying at Ginny’s face, which was now a bright red. She laid a pitying hand on Harry’s arm. “Oh, Harry, I’m sorry,” she said through her giggles. “If I’d known…”

Taking the ribbing gracefully was the only option. “You’re quite forgiven,” he said with mock seriousness, patting Hermione’s hand. “Just don’t do it again.”
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I like it for the dynamism of the group dialogue, the humour, and the playing around with wizarding gender roles you get with Fred and George.

silentclock · Oct 18, 2014

Good selection, Taure. For what it's worth, that's my favorite of your stories.

I've been trying to think of my favorite passage of my own. Outside These Walls is probably the piece I'm proudest of, but I can't think of any single passage that feels appropriate for this thread. Here's what I've settled on, the opening scene from Harry Potter and the Mage's Epoch.

There had been an island on the other side of the Irish Sea once. He hadn't ever seen it, not with his own eyes, but he'd heard the story often enough. There was another world out there, a million miles and a sea away. That much he knew.

His mother's mother had hailed from Belfast, and she had the hair and the accent to prove it. When he was a boy, he'd sat on her lap, and she'd told him stories about the homeland. It was green, she'd said, green everywhere, with blue skies. And the people were of a different stock. Find a hundred good Irish boys, she told him, and you could take care of all this nonsense straight away.

He missed her.

Harry Potter sat on a rock overlooking the Portpatrick beach. His seat was smooth, the rough edges worn away by years of catching the sea. He closed his eyes, listening to the tide as it rolled in, back and forth. Certainty. Serenity. Of all the places in the world, this was just about his favorite. He could be in peace here, just himself and his thoughts.

Beautiful. Peaceful. But tainted, just the same as everywhere else. Though it was the height of the afternoon, starting perhaps a hundred feet from the coast, there was nothing but darkness. The Veil. Black as the darkest night, choking Britain like a noose. It was a wall of shadow, stretching as tall and far as the eye could see. A pure and perfect darkness. Harry could only imagine what existed beyond it.

The Muggles blamed it on the Yanks, a side effect of their bombs or some such nonsense. But Harry knew that it represented something worse. The death knell of freedom, of liberty.

Holding his wand aloft, he levitated a stone in front of him, spinning it around slowly. It was smooth and grey. Formed and shaped over millennia. With a flick of his wrist, the stone shot forward. He followed its track as it skipped across the water, letting out a sigh as it disappeared beyond the Veil.

Not for the first time, he wondered about the world outside. About what was left of it.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder cracked. He felt the first droplets of rain splash against his skin. Of course it would rain today. Divination was a load of rubbish in his opinion, but he couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't a bad omen. Either way, he wasn't in a hurry to sit there while it stormed.

Harry stood, taking one last look out at the sea then turning away. He had business at the castle.
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The funny thing is, this passage wasn't even in my original draft. I wrote it on Andro's suggestion, after I was already a few chapters in. But I love the way it sets the tone for a pretty massive AU.

wordhammer · Oct 18, 2014

I kept trying to think of a good Holly moment, but this one still ranks among my favorites, and has been complimented by others:

Retroactive said:

Harry gathered his calm and turned back towards his companion. "Um, Luna. How did you cast those spells without saying anything?"

Luna looked down at her wand and thought. She replied, "I spend a lot of my time Not being Noticed. It really isn't that difficult- most adults get by with only speaking aloud the most aggressive or least-practiced spells, while their regularly-used repertoire can be cast with barely an afterthought, much less a spoken incantation."

"I hadn't noticed before, but yeah, you're right. So, how do I do that?"

"You just think the words. After all, you're not saying the words at your target."

"You're... I'm not?"

"No. You're saying the words to your wand. If you get along with your wand, like friends might, you'll work out how to communicate a lot with just a look, a familiar noise and gesture. You and Hermione do that all the time, don't you?"

"I never thought of my wand as a person."

Luna gave Harry a confused look. "Of course not, Harry. Why would you do that? It's a wand. You tell it what you want and then aim. If it understands you properly, it produces what you intended. I can't get that sort of response even from my father, and he loves me."
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Proposed fanon theory + comedy + characterization... yeah.

Averis · Oct 18, 2014

Here's a part of an action scene from the Minister's Daughter.

"Withey, let's get airborn."

I summoned my Firebolt, and this time there was no giant to interfere. "Sir, what are you thinking?" Withey asked, searching my eyes.

"I'm thinking those two men on brooms have to go. You're going to bring them to me, and I'm going to take them out. Simple enough, James?"

"Yes, sir." He seemed a bit unsure about my decision, but he wasn't about to question me in the heat of the moment. "I know where they are, but where will you be?"

"It probably sounds ridiculous, but it's better if you don't know. It'll be more of a surprise. Just... don't get hurt, kid. I could try to catch you if you fall, but I'm not the Seeker I was five years ago," I joked. "I'll try to make it quick and easy."

He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. His lack of a response to labelling him a 'kid' was obvious proof he was focused on the mission. I could tell he was nervous at the thought of going back into the air to battle, but it was tremendously difficult to hit someone in the air, and I thought he could handle ducking and dodging on his broom. From what I had heard before the mission, the boy's seeking had been the reason Hufflepuff house had won the Quidditch cup three years running in the years following my graduation. "Yes, sir."

We both lifted off the ground moments later, Withey taking the lead while I remained invisible, following behind him. The cloak ruffled slightly with the weather, and I prayed a strong gust wouldn't give my location away. I clenched it tightly in my left hand, trying to wrap it around the broom itself, just in case. I had cast spells through the cloak before, but it would be best to remove it when I started casting so that my aim would be better, so the first time I used magic, the cloak was going to be useless to me.

Even as we prepared to flank the French turncoats, I was struck again by how beautiful this area of their country was; the green and white-speckled scenery seemed majestic from my viewpoint gliding on the wind. Withey was creeping along the trees, but I went higher to find our prey before they found him. I sped up, zipping through the clouds and spiralling upwards, my stomach spinning as assuredly as I was, but I pulled up a few dozen meters above Withey. I spotted the two French aurors on brooms, and I noted that each had been part of the welcoming party when we first Portkeyed to Saint Pierre d'Entremond. I was angry, oh yes, but I couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk that crossed my face. I rushed to return to Withey's side, and I knew I was about to get my revenge on these particular aurors.

Within moments, Withey came into view, already casting a stunner that whipped past the confused aurors, just barely missing the closest target. I could sense their hesitation, but they were fairly quick to react in tandem to his fool-hardy offensive maneuver. Rather than continue aimlessly casting spells, James dodged one of theirs and headed for the ground. One of the men remained still, casting some rather powerful fire spells that just missed Withey on his descent. His partner decided that chasing was the best option, and I ripped off my cloak just as he was drawing close. "Expelliarmus!"

The auror looked up a moment too late, and he was torn from the broomstick under the force of my disarming spell. He screamed in desperate fear as he fell to the ground, but it was merely a few seconds before the French countryside was quiet once more. His partner had not even noticed, still furiously persuing James, who was always a step ahead of him.

I admired the younger man's skill on a broom as I approached. The wind was whirling in my eyes and ears, but I could still see how talented Withey was in the air. I had chosen well by picking the boy for this mission, I thought, just as he proved me wrong; James cork-screwed once again and ended up coming torturously close to the French auror, who had over-extended himself trying to catch up to James. In the resulting chaos, neither of them had time to slow down, and they both yelped as they collided with each other. I pushed for extra-speed out of the Firebolt as they both fell to the ground, stretching my arms out to James, who reached out for me as well. I didn't have time to cast a spell, nor to even glance over at the Frenchmen I had just condemned to death. Instead, I lurched forward with my right arm extended to James and kicked with my legs, pulling the broom upwards with all the strength I could muster.

James had latched onto my shoulder gear with both hands, and it was fortunate he didn't rip my entire arm off in the process. For a few moments, he hung off of my shoulder in fear, and he pulled my right arm taut, as it was the only thing keeping James from a disastrous fall. My left hand was clenching the broom so hard it felt like a razor was being dragged slowly across my palm, and I knew he was too heavy for us to sustain this flight, so I guided the broom toward a patch of snow and dropped him a few meters over the ground. He screamed, before smashing into the ground with the smallest oomph. His eyes bulged before he realized he wasn't very far off of the ground to start with, chuckling darkly.

"Didn't I tell you not to make me catch you?" I muttered, feeling like my arm had been stretched to the point of breaking.

"Thanks, boss," he said. "I just wanted to test your skill, is all," James added, looking mischievous despite the fact he had almost just fallen to his death. "Turns out you're a passable seeker."

I snorted. "Dementors attacked in my third year, and it was the only reason Hufflepuff caught the snitch. After that, I never lost again."

"Like I said, a passable seeker." He groaned, climbing to his feet from the ground. His head was covered in snow, but he looked otherwise unruffled by the whole experience.
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DLP Flash Christmas Competition + Writing Marathon 2024!

Hi there, Guest

What passage of writing are you most proud of?

Skeletaure Magical Core Enthusiast ~ Prestige ~ DLP Supporter

silentclock Chief Warlock DLP Supporter

wordhammer Dark Lord DLP Supporter

Averis Don of Delivery ~ Prestige ~

I want to write a story where Harry is the Archetypical Slytherin

Writing Marathon 2024

Writing Marathon 2023!

Writing Marathon - 2022

The Writing You're Most Proud Of

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