Fan Fiction (Shorts)

Unbreakable Vow


Ro was a special girl, with black hair and dark eyes that stood out from her pale complexion. Not only was she clever, but she was gifted. Though her parents thought of her as extraordinary, society thought otherwise. Ro was living in a time where being special meant death, hence, her parents constantly reminded her to never use her gift in public.

Because of Ro’s condition, she and her parents moved around a lot. Her parents were looking for a place where they would be accepted and that Ro could grow up without living in fear. But finding such a peace haven was becoming more impossible as the years went by.

Ro once thought that there were many others like her, and that when they found those people, she wouldn’t have to lie her way in life. But when she saw her parents losing hope, Ro was losing hers too. Maybe she was alone and there was no one like her, or worse, the king had killed all those who were like her already.

Sometimes, Ro would feel a tear rolling down her cheek, and when she realized her sadness had made her cheeks wet, she would pull her hood over and keep her head down. Loneliness was something she hated and yet it was starting to be the only thing she understood.

Ro thought her future was as straight forward as surviving day to day, but it was on one fine night that things changed. When her parents decided to stay a night at a town they were passing through, Ro discovered she was not so alone anymore.

Ro was having a hard time falling asleep that night, and she decided to sneak out when her parents had fallen asleep. She had learned how to sneak around that even old floorboards could not betray her. Once she was in the clear of any humans, Ro walked towards an empty field behind the inn. She heard the town’s people talking about an upcoming tourney, and Ro secretly hoped they could stay long enough to see it. Though she was certain they wouldn’t.

Closing her eyes briefly, Ro imagined the field being set up with tents and benches. She saw knights, horses, swords and a loud and excited crowd. When she opened her eyes, the field lay quietly under the dark sky. Ro felt the same sadness within her and she knew a tear would soon be coming. Thankfully, someone stopped her.

“Lovely isn’t it?” a girl asked.

Turning around, Ro saw a girl around her age with red hair and blue eyes, and with skin almost as pale as hers.

“It would be, when the tourney starts,” Ro said, forcing a smile.

“Well, that depends. But I prefer it quiet,” the girl replied.

Of course she did, she was never alone. Silence was bliss for a girl like her, Ro thought.

“I haven’t seen you around, are you new here?” the girl asked.

“I’m just passing through with my parents. Do you live in this town?” Ro asked in return.

“Yes. But I want to leave. I hate it here,” the girl said, as she took a seat on a log.

“Why? Isn’t it nice here?”

“No. No one understands me. The only one who did left me,” the girl answered sourly.

Ro thought for a while before she spoke. The girl felt alone too, and it must be horrible to feel alone even when there were so many people around. At least Ro never had to deal with loneliness that way.

“Who left?”

“My father. He died,” the girl replied softly.

Ro sat beside her, and watched her closely. Was she going to cry?

“How about your mother?” Ro tried to sound comforting.

“She thinks I’m a freak.”

“Why would any mother think that of her child?”

“Because I can do things. Things normal people can’t.”

Immediately, Ro felt a surge of happiness, which she felt bad for feeling at the same time.

“What kind of things?” Ro asked, trying to hide her excitement.

“Strange things. Things my mother said the King would burn me for.” The girl turned to look at Ro and asked, “Can you do strange things too?”

There was the same glinting hope in the girl’s eyes that Ro could sense, but Ro just stared at the girl, unsure if she should admit it.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I can do strange things too remember?” the girl said with a sweet smile.

Ro nodded and smiled. But her smiled soon died as she said, “I will be gone in the morning. My parents will not let me stay, and they won’t let you come along either.”

“I know. But we can always find each other, because we are special,” the girl said confidently.


“A vow.” The girl took Ro’s hand and continued, “I promise to find you when I’m old enough to leave. I promise that we will find others like us. And I promise we will be together till the very end. Do you promise the same?”

“I promise to go with you when you find me. I promise that we will find and help others like us. And I promise we will be together till the very end,” Ro said her own vows, her hand still tightly gripping the girl’s.

“Good,” the girl said as she pulled her hand away, and gave Ro a hug.

Once they sat back, Ro curiously asked, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Helga. What is yours?”

“I’m Rowena. But you can call me Ro.”

They sat there long enough to share their dreams, desires, and even their gifts, that when morning came, Ro felt like crying again, not because of loneliness but because she might have to wait a long time before she could see her new sister again.

Almost 10 years later, the wait was over when Ro received a letter from Helga. Not thinking twice, Rowena packed her bags and left the small school she was learning magic from. She was not going to break her vow, as vows were never meant to be broken. Maybe when she has obtained a wand, Ro could come up with a spell for vows, so words were not just spoken but binding to the souls.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)


Before his father left him and his mother, he taught him a lesson. It was a lesson he never forgot and a lesson he was sure to practice.

It all started when his father started gambling and drinking. His mother was afraid of the man she married, and he was afraid of being thrown across the room every time he did something wrong. His father never really cared if he broke a leg or bled, because to his father, a little pain was a good lesson. But that wasn’t what he learned from his father.

It was during an evening game with his friends when he saw his father standing by a tree watching. His team wasn’t winning and he was sure his father knew that. When they took a break for water, his father called him over.

“Who is winning son?” his father asked, as the stale smell of alcohol escaped his breath.

“Harriet’s team,” he replied softly.

“Are you in Harriet’s team?”

“No,” he replied even softer than before.

“Then beg Harriet to take you,” his father ordered.

“But… I can’t leave my friends.”

“You what?” His father reached for his arm roughly and pulled him closer.

“I- I can’t leave my friends,” he repeated.

“But your friends are losing, do you want to lose?” The grip of his father’s hand tightened, and his dirty and untrimmed nails dug into his flesh.

“No sir,” he whimpered.

“Then make Harriet take you in his team!” his father shouted, shoving him backwards and causing him to fall on his back.

“It’s only a game,” he immediately replied in anger.

“It is not ONLY a game boy. Do you want to lose all your life? Do you want to be a loser? Do you like being a loser? Do you?!” His father had pulled him to his feet and slammed him against the tree.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his friends stopping to watch. They were whispering among themselves, not sure if they should help him. But what can three 10 year olds do to a grown man? He was certain he was on his own. And just when he was about to get hit in the face, he heard his mother scream.

“You stay away from him! Don’t you dare touch him!” she yelled as she tried to pull his father from him.

His father turned towards her and slapped her across the face. He was strong enough to send her flat on the ground, weeping.

“Don’t!” he yelled, struggling to free himself from his father’s grip.

“Don’t?” his father asked, and then he laughed, releasing his grip on him.

Immediately, he ran to his mother’s side, and tried to prop her up. Tears were streaming down her face as her lips bled.

“Why do you have to hurt her?!” The sudden anger made him bold.

“You wanna know why? Because losers deserve it.” His father spat on the ground and continued, “You mother is a loser, and so are you. I don’t want to be around losers.”

His father chuckled to himself and shook his head, before he left them. He hated his father even more then, but he knew he would have to face his father when he got home, so he sucked it up and tried to help his mother. By the time he had gotten his weak and weeping mother on the couch in their living room, he noticed something was different. His father’s shoes weren’t in the walkway, and when he headed up to his parent’s bedroom, he saw the wardrobe door wide open and the clothes on his father’s side were all gone.

When his mother entered the bedroom after him, she fell on her knees and wept even more. The picture of their family that once hung above the bed was also on the floor, with the frame shattered.

“He’s gone!” his mother wailed.

“It’s o.k, I’ll take care of you,” he immediately replied.

“You’re a boy. A boy who can’t even win a stupid children’s game. It is your fault he is gone!” his mother accused.

He knew she wouldn’t intend on hurting him, but those word stung. He was indeed a loser. How was a loser going to look after his mother? He was going to amount to nothing, and his father was right. That was why his father left, his father didn’t want to be around losers.

“No, I’m not a loser,” he said to himself.

“Mother, I’m not a loser. I’ll pick the winning team, and we’ll be alright.” He turned his mother to face him.

“No, Peter, you’re not a loser,” his mother replied, merely repeating his words without giving much thought.

“We’ll be alright, you’ll see,” Peter assured, as he embraced his mother, whose sobs continued.

True enough, Peter Pettigrew made sure that he was always on the winning team. He left the friends he used to play with for James Potter when he started at Hogwarts, and he left James Potter for the Dark Lord when a war was starting. And during all those times, his only motivation was to be a winner and not the loser his father said his was.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

An Extra Tea Cup

He sat on the old sofa, facing the unlit fireplace, staring blankly at it as though waiting for something to happen. Occasionally, he would take a quick glance at his watch, and would state to himself the minutes left before his arrival.

Typically, every year during the Christmas holidays, he would have driven to King’s Cross Station and waited for the arrival of the Hogwart’s Express. This year, he was pretty sure he didn’t have to, even if he wanted to. His son would show up all by himself, as he did all year round.

He often asked his son how he managed to slip out of school grounds, and if it was breaking any school rules, he would forbid him to do so. But his son assured him that since he was in his final year, he was given special privileges.

“There’s no harm father,” his son always said.

Strangely, it never really occurred to him how his son came home. Surely he did not use the floo network as the fireplace has not been used for a year now.

“I should ask him how he does it, my sweet sweet boy,” he said to himself.

Taking another glance at his watch, he realized his son was half an hour late, which was never the case.

“Cerena, your son is late,” he shouted to his wife.

Cerena appeared at the living room doorway and smiled to him weakly.

“He’s late. He’s never late. The train must be delayed. Should I check with Dumbledore?” he added.

“There’s no need my love,” Cerena replied with a smile. “Would you like some biscuits and tea?”

“Yes dear, that would be very nice.”

Just as his wife disappeared into the kitchen, he heard someone walking up behind him. Getting up quickly to see if it was his son, he was disappointed to find the cat, looking up at him like he was insane.

“What are you looking at? If it wasn’t for my son, you would have been gone by now,” he said angrily to the cat, who gave a meow in reply.

Taking another look at his watch, he started to panic. Why was his son late? The delay couldn’t be close to an hour, could it?

As his wife laid down the tray on the coffee table, he started pacing up and down. He felt it odd that his wife did not worry at all. Aren’t the roles suppose to be the other way around?

“How can you be so calm Cerena?” he asked his wife, slightly annoyed.

“Sit down dear. Have some tea. It will calm the nerves.”

Sitting down and taking the cup of tea from his wife, he noticed how there were only two sets of tea cups on the tray.

“Aren’t you having tea?” he asked his wife.

“I am. Why…” Cerena drifted off, as though realizing her mistake. “I just washed the other cup, and I’m drying it out. I’ll bring it out later,” she quickly added.

He nodded his head and continued sipping his tea. It was indeed relieving.

Moments later, the door bell rang. Jumping from his seat, nearly spilling over the remaining tea in his cup, he rushed to the door and pulled it open excitedly. There, on the gravel pathway, stood his son, smiling from ear to ear.

“I’m sorry for being late. The train was delayed. I hope I did not worry you?” his son immediately said.

“Oh, you worried me alright, but don’t worry about it,” he said, as he ushered his son in. “Your mother and I was just having some tea. You must join us and tell us all about school!”

Entering the living room, he announced, “Look who’s home!”

“Hello mother,” his son greeted.

Cerena looked up from her tea cup and smiled. She then got up and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Take a seat. Your mother is getting you a cup,” he said.

Not waiting for his wife to return, he immediately asked, “So, how’s that girlfriend of yours?”

“Father, she’s not my girlfriend,” his son replied blushing.

“You took her to the ball last year, that says a lot.”

“It doesn’t. We’re not going out anymore.”

“Why is that? Who stole her from you?” He narrowed his eyes, wondering who dared mess with his son’s interests.

“Father, forget it alright,” his son said and added, “Why is mother taking so long?”

“Don’t change the topic boy. I will not have anyone take away what is yours.”

“She’s not mine. She’s not an object to be fought over.” There was a hint of exasperation in his voice.

“Fine. At least tell me who she is with now.”

“She’s with Harry,” he replied softly.

“Harry Potter? Why? Why would she choose him over you?”

“Father, let’s drop this. You are clearly upset.”

“I AM upset. Harry Potter is nothing compared to you. You are the Triwizard champion, not him!”


“No, I must speak to that little nuisance! Who does he think he is?!”

Right at the peak of his anger, Cerena walked it, without the extra tea cup in hand.

“What took you so long? And where is Cedric’s cup?!” he demanded.

Cerena just looked at him and to the empty chair he had been speaking to for the last ten minutes. She didn’t know what to say.

Maybe… maybe it was time she gotten him the help he needed.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

A Slippery Gift

She hatched into the family of the rather insane Mr. Grabbill Hookland.

Grab, whom his friends commonly called him, was a collector of rare magical creatures. He would keep them as pets and sometimes mate them. And when the little cross breeds were born, he would sent them as gifts to his nephews and nieces.

Yes, an odd man he was.

You would usually see him in his black tuxedo, striding on the streets of London, claiming to be a business man. And with a wicked sense of cruelty towards muggles, he would often invite them home to give them a scare. Of course, with a memory charm, he covered up that hobby of his easily.

Among his friends, Grab constantly bragged about his “pets”, and how fantastically unique they were. He would flaunt the new breeds and the recently hatched, and today, he flaunted a snake.

“Oh, such beauty isn’t she?” Grab said to Tawrent Lovegood.

“Yes. Rather.” Tawrent gave the snake a poke and sank deeper into his chair. He hated snakes, especially this one. There was something about it, something that made it feel dangerous to be around it.

“Do you know that this one can grow up to 50 feet! If brought up properly that is,” Grab stroked the snake’s head.

“How… delightful,” Tawrent said uncertainly.

“But I’m not keeping this one.”

“Which unlucky nephew or niece are you giving this creature to?”

Grab laughed at what he thought was a joke. “Well, I have a special buyer who’s particularly interested.”

Grab went on to placing the baby snake into a small plastic box. He then waved his wand and brown paper messily wrapped itself around the box. A small card addressed to an unknown source also sat nicely on top of the box. And as an owl swooped into his living room, Grab tied the gift to its legs.

“You know who to send it to,” Grab said cheerfully to the owl. And the owl obediently went on its delivery.

“Is it legal?” Tawrent asked as he watched the owl fly off.

“What is? Selling my pets?”

“Yes. Especially to people you don’t know,” Tawrent said.

“Why not?” Grab smiled as he sipped at his tea.

“I thought there’s a license process for sales and purchases of such creatures.”

“You have too many friends in the ministry that the law is starting to confuse you.”

“I just don’t want you to get in trouble,” Tawrent said with a sigh.

“I won’t be in trouble. This buyer knows a great deal about snakes.”

“Really.” Tawrent was not convinced.

“Oh yes. But I told him that at this age, the snake needs a lot of grooming, and if he has any intentions for it, he best wait till it is fully grown. I also told him not to show it off to anyone, since, it is a very rare breed that I would consider dangerous.”

“Right. Lets hope he doesn’t send it on a killing spree.”

“That would be a waste of her potential if he didn’t. But I think he only wants a companion.” Grabbill laughed.

“Odd choice for one.”


The packaged arrive in a house outside of town. The special buyer sent the owl off with the money he owed before heading to his reading room to unwrap it. But before he could do so, he saw an intruder hiding in the shadows.

Panicking, he pulled out his wand and demanded, “Who are you?! How did you get in?!”

Before he could react. he saw a flash of green light, that even an attempt to draw his last breath was impossible.

“Thank you for the slippery gift,” the person in the shadows said, before heading to the package.

Knowing that the old man he just killed was a loner, he took his time at opening the gift he claimed. And when he first laid eyes on the snake, he was amazed at the beauty of it.

“Hi,” he said.

The baby snake curled at a corner and watched him closely.

“I won’t hurt you. I just want to be friends,” he continued.

He then put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a rat he had bought from the market earlier in the day.

“Here’s a treat,” he said, as he carefully released it into the plastic box.

She hesitated for a moment, watching his hand pull out from her safe zone. Then, without thinking twice, she striked at the rat.

“Fast one,” he said, sounding impressed.

“I am,” she replied.

“I hope you liked it.”

“Thank you,” she said as she moved out from her curled position.

“Do you have a name?” he asked.

She shook her head at him in reply.

“I shall call you Nagini then. Do you like that name?”

“I guess. Do you have a name?”

“Yes. I’m… master. Call me master.”

“O.k master,” Nagini replied.

“Let’s go home,” Master said as he picked up the snake and disappeared in a swoosh.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

The Egyptians Will Have To Wait

During one summer, she met a handsome young man. His was kind and sweet, and he did things for her she never imagined any man would. Honestly, in her innocent mind, she thought he was the one. This young man, however, was years older than her, but in that state of infatuation she didn’t mind, because after all, his age came with maturity.

Sadly, her prince charming was going away to explore his love for potions after summer was over, and already  knowing that she might have to wait for him, she could not stand the thought. How long was she willing to wait? One year? Two years? Not wanting to have any distance between them, she decided that after her studies, she would join him where ever he was, and with that, they made future plans.

As their romance began to spark off, her parents started to take notice of her constant disappearance, and when her mother started snooping around, she had no choice but to tell her parents. Thinking that they would forbid her, she was surprised when they said they wanted to meet the boy she was so fond of. Without much of a choice, she brought this up to her beloved and being the gentleman she thought he was, he came over one night for dinner. That was one meal she will never forget, as even her strict, expressionless father seemed to have fallen in love with him.

A couple of weeks later, the man she adored told her over a random owl post that they needed to talk. His letter was scattered with words that made her confused and worried. Insisting that they should meet and talk, she met up with him that very same night. It was then that he told her he was not ready. He also mentioned a handful of reasons that she soon forgot after the tears fell.

As she cried herself to sleep that night, asking herself why that had to happen, oddly enough, she made up her mind to forgive him. She was, after all, the most understanding girl he has ever met, that was his words to be exact. Days passed and she soon told herself that it was alright. If he was not ready, then she should understand his situation, whatever it was.

Weeks after he had broke it off with her, he left for Germany, and the owl posts between them arrived slower as the days went by. Soon, school restarted, and she was quite certain she was almost completely over him. But then something happened. The man she still thought of as her friend decided to cut all connections from her. He didn’t reply to her last letter and he changed his address without telling her. When she asked around the people he worked with, they too pretended not to know. Immediately, she knew he was cutting her off and out of his life; that she couldn’t understand. She had given him all the space he needed, and she had never blamed him for what he had done to her, but now he chose to remove her from his life. What was he hoping to get out of his actions?

Hurt and angry, she found comfort in a friend, who managed to convince her that his actions did not deserve him the right to be her friend. Friends do not do that to friends; that was her rational. Since she could not deny the truth in those words, and she had to move on from the new pain he had caused her, she decided to listen to her advice.

One summer after that, she found a part-time job at Gringotts Wizarding Bank to improve her English. It was when she accidentally sent the account forms flying all over the place that she met another young man. The start of their friendship soon led her falling head over heels for him, but every time she wanted to tell him how she felt, she remembered the man who broke her heart. Though she had moved on, she couldn’t help but recall the good times and the bad times that shattered her heart into a million pieces. Was she ready to put herself at risk of getting hurt? All she had were questions with no answers.

Days passed and the questions began pilling up, just like the work load on her desk. Amazingly, among the countless times she tried to answer herself, just hearing his sweet voice cleared all her doubts.

“Do you need help?” he asked, peeking through the stacks of paper.

“No thanks. Iz o.k,” she said with a smile. She looked calm and composed but nobody knew she was struggling to calm her racing heart. Why waz he zo cute? she asked herself.

“Fleur, your English is fine, why are you still working here? Let me take you for dinner and discuss on how you can resign,” he said with a chuckle.

“You haz taken me for many meals, how can I repay you?” Fleur asked, as she gently placed the quill down.

“Be mine and mine only?”

Fleur didn’t try to hide her blushing cheeks this time.

“What if ze Egyptian curses call you one day?”

“The Egyptians will have to wait, for I cannot imagine a day without you.”

“Then I shall have dinner wiz you and discuss on how YOU can resign. Because dating a co-worker, Bill Weasley, iz not allowed.”

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

The Fallen – Part II

Eleven died in the bloodbath; eleven whose names all of us do not even know. Who were they? How were their lives before the reaping like? What were on their minds as they drew their very last breath? If only we could take a glimpse through their eyes. If only we could venture into their deepest thoughts, then maybe they won’t be nameless after all.


Running away from the Cornucopia, he saw the buffed up boy from district 1 aiming a machete at him. Being too late to dodge out of the way, the machete flew right towards him and sunk its heavy blade into his chest. Oddly, he could not feel a thing. As it happened so quickly, and the moments later so slowly, he found himself falling to the ground, as though in a dream.

The moment he touched the grass, his vision was already blurring and he couldn’t remember what he was trying so hard to recall. But at the back of his head, he could hear his voice calling to him.

“I’m proud of you, son.” His father’s voice echoed in his head. And that was all he wanted to hear from his father who never said a word. Soon, the voice stopped and so did his heart.

That was the end of the nameless boy from district 9.


The searing pain rose to her thighs as she saw the gash in her legs. Screaming in pain, she did not sense the presence of another tribute, who came from behind her and stabbed her in the back. Immediately, she fell to the ground as she bled profusely. No one came to end her life, and no one came to her aid. Yet she knew she was going to die as the amount of blood oozing from her wounds started soaking into the ground beneath her, making the ground wet, as though it had just rained blood.

“Please don’t let me die,” she muttered repeatedly.

Then, out from the corner of her eyes, she saw her fellow district tribute, who briefly stared right at her as he hid in between the supply crates.

“Help me,” she mouthed.

But the boy merely stared, frightened to the very core.

Should he go? He asked himself. Should he help her? He remembered the day she risked her life trying to pull him out from under a train engine. He was playing with his friends when it happened, and she was there with her father. He had no idea how he got stuck, but when he realized it, they were ready to test run the engine. He knew that if she did not go under the train and yanked him out, the two electromagnetic fields would have blown him to bits.

Finally deciding he should attempt to help the girl, he was confronted with the boy from district 2, who immediately took him by the head. At that very second, he did not even hear his own head snap.

Watching from the distance, she knew he was gone, and finally giving up, she too accepted her fate. At least she saved his life once, and that was one good deed she could amount to.

Those were the crossing ends of the nameless boy and girl from district 6.


She was a pretty face. Everyone said so. She was going to be in pageants and win crowns with her high cheek bones and beautiful eyes. But when she was named tribute, all of those dreams were flushed down the drain. Beauty could do her nothing in the hunger games, and yet she still paid more attention to her face than to her skills.

It was only during the bloodbath did she realize that her pretty face made her no friends and did not make her any more prettier inside. As she felt the sickle slash across her face, all she could think about was how she would look like. And it was during then that she saw how shallow she had lived her life.

As she touched her face, she wasn’t sure if it was her tears that was blurring her vision or if she was dying. And as everything started to fade away, all she saw was herself, in a beautiful dress, with a crown on top of her head, and her face so brutally scarred. It was then that she asked herself if all she ever wanted before the games mattered, and it was only then that she realized she had lived such a worthless life. If only I could turn back time, she thought a final thought.

That was the end of the nameless girl from district 3, who realized too late that no one could live life twice.


He felt his hands around his neck, and the harder he struggled to free himself, the faster he felt his strength leaving him. He was about to die, and he knew it. As the hands around his neck started to loosen, he recalled of the day his baby brother grabbed onto his neck and attempted to strangle him in a game.

“You cannot strangle me baby brother,” he said to the toddler with bright blue eyes.

“I monster!” his brother shouted happily.

“No, you’re not a monster,” he said, as he tackled his brother gently and tickled him.

“Now, now, you have plenty of time to play later. Time to get ready for the reaping,” his mother interrupted.

The reaping, he thought. The reaping led him straight to his death. Here he was, hoping that it was his harmless baby brother strangling him, and in the back of his head, all he could hear was his hearty child laughter. He always wanted a brother, and now that he had one, he was never going to get to know him better.

In the very last second of his life, he hoped that his brother would be spared from the games and that he would not have to be the monster he innocently claimed to be. He hoped his future would be different.

I love you baby brother, he thought. And that was the end of the nameless boy from district 5.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

The Fallen – Part I

Eleven died in the Cornucopia bloodbath; eleven whose names all of us do not even know. Who were they? How were their lives before the reaping like? What were on their minds as they drew their very last breath? If only we could take a glimpse through their eyes. If only we could venture into their deepest thoughts, then maybe they won’t be nameless after all.


Knocked out of breath, he found himself lying on his back, facing the boy with the dagger in hand. A smile spread across the boy’s face, as he leaned towards him and position his dagger behind his head.

“The first kill is mine,” the boy from district 1 said, as he swung the dagger towards his throat.

And before he could even cry a plea, he felt the cold smooth edge of the blade slid across his neck. The next few moments, as he struggled to breathe, he knew he was soon drawing his last breath. Even as the boy continued to stab him, he could not feel anything any longer.

And it was at his last attempt to hold onto his life that he saw her face. It was the face of his mother, widowed and soon to be childless. Who was going to look after her now? His only wish was that she didn’t have to watch him gasps for air, but that was inevitable.

I’m sorry, mom, he thought. I’m sorry I won’t be there for you anymore.

And that was the end of the nameless boy from district 8.


By the time she lost count at the number of times the girl had repeatedly brought her knife up and down into her body, all the pain she had been feeling had left. Was is the tenth time she was being stabbed? Her mind started to confuse her, as though it was giving up earlier than her beating heart.

She knew from the very beginning that she wasn’t going to survive the games, and the moment she left her home, she knew she would never see him again. Thankfully, even in her clouded mind, she managed to imagine his face one last time. His good looks and charming smile; she loved the way he would look at her and say her name. She loved how he would care for her and she recalled his promise to give her a good life. But now, she knew none of it could ever come true. Her love for him was dying as her body started to give way. If only she could tell him one last time that she loved him, but even a whisper she could not master.

Soon, it would be over. Just as his face faded from her, soon had arrived.

That was the end of the nameless girl from district 10.


He always thought that after his brother’s death, he could never be the son his parents wanted. But when he was chosen at the reaping, his doubts were cleared.

“You have made us proud. No matter what happens, know that we love you!” his mother shouted as they closed the door behind her.

As he stood alone in the poorly decorated room, tears started to roll down his cheeks.

And just as he felt the pain in his back going numb, and the warmth of his blood running from his throat, tears rolled down his cheeks. That was his last memory, and that was his mother’s last words. For a brief moment, he thought he was back in that room, with his arms wrapped around his father and mother, but when he snapped back to reality, he knew that that was a memory soon to be gone along with his soul.

If this was his end, then it was an end where he knew his parent’s were still proud of him. The end of the nameless boy from district 7 was not so emotionally painful after all.


She felt a shove, which made her stumble forward. She immediately lost her balance as she fell directly into the path of a career tribute who had a spear in his hand. Before she could even divert from his path, he threw the spear directly at her.

As though time had slowed down just for her to see her life flash through her eyes, she saw her best friends. Two girls whom she grew up with that not only taught her the world, but shared every moment with her. Will things be different without her? Or would they carry on with their lives as though nothing had happened? Out of all the emotions she was feeling, all that was bothering her was whether they would remember her.

Unfortunately, before she could convince herself that they would, the spear penetrated her heart and that was the end of the nameless girl from district 7.


He was like a little brother to her, so she knew she had to protect him. When she was twelve, the eight year old boy would tail her where ever she went. He was like her shadow, constantly following her and looking up to her. She did not blame him as his family was as broken as hers. Her father was always having affairs, and his mother had left him when he was just a toddler. With the lack of one parent, they immediately connected and became the brother and sister they did not have.

She loved him as much as he loved her, and when they were both chosen, they knew that they would have to protect each other to the death. But neither of them knew it would happen so soon.

When the boy from district 2 slashed his machete at her, she yelled, “Run!”

She saw her sworn brother hesitate, and she shouted at him again, “Run! Go!”

Immediately, the boy from district 2 held onto her head smashed it against the crates. Her last hope was that he would live, and as she watched him through her deteriorating vision, she silently prayed for him with her last breath.

Running as fast as he could, he could feel his hot tears running down his cheeks. He knew she was dying, or dead, and he could not do anything. He didn’t want to run, and he would rather die by her side, but his legs did not stop as he did what she told him to.

Thinking that he could finally get away, he felt strong hands grabbing on to him, and just as he shut his eyes, he felt something sharp, cold and wet come down on his neck. Silently, he prayed he would see her soon, and that they would be together again.

That was the end of the nameless girl and boy from district 3.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)


She loved bathing. It was not about being clean, but the chance of escaping the crowd and lifting her head towards the shower head as she let her tears run down unnoticed. She felt that as the water flowed down her face, it was washing all the hurt and pain within her that she cried out from her eyes. That was also why she liked rainy days, as she often thought that rain was the cleansing tool for all life’s worries and troubles.

But she soon realized that bathing did not help much, for when she leaved the shower, there would still be a heaviness in her heart. The tears could not take it away from her, and the water could not wash it away. What she felt like doing during those moments was to drown that heaviness. She felt that if she managed to drown it, she wouldn’t be carrying that burden with her everyday. But on those days, of which she attempts to drown her pain, she never had the ability to finish it. Just as she felt it all slowly slipping away, she would quickly pull herself up, gasping for air. She scolded herself for being a coward just as she would climb out of the bathtub. Yet silently, she wondered if she was really willing to let it all go.

She realized that in order for her pain to leave her, she had to take her life together, and she wasn’t just drowning her emotions but the very breath she had. Could she actually pull it off the next round?

The days in school were always a motivation for her to head to the bathroom. She was taunted, teased and bullied in school that she felt like she was living in a world where she was the only human, and everyone else were cold blooded dementors. There was never a happy moment, and even if there was, it was a moment the dementors would steal away from her. Honestly, she would have preferred being in Azkaban than in school. At least there, she could just let the dementors lay their icy lips on hers and do her a favor. Yes, the thought was very welcoming.

A few days after her 14th birthday, a girl named Olive Hornby, who never got teased for her ridiculous name, gathered a crowd of giggly girls and started teasing her. It was typical of Olive to do so, as it had became her daily routine for the past four years since they were acquainted. So, on that day, the taunting just had to happen.

“Four eyes!” Olive shouted at her, just as their period at Herbology ended.

Not even bothering to respond, she walked out of the classroom and was heading towards the dormitory. But her lack of response sent the group tailing after her.

“Hey, you deaf now? Pimples growing in your ears?” Olive continued.

“Gross,” she muttered to herself.

“That would be a new record for the oddest place to have a pimple,” Olive said out loud as her friends laughed.

“Leave me alone,” she shouted, and started picking up pace. But that didn’t stop Olive, as she kept following her.

“I can’t cause I need to tell you that your hair needs a wash. It’s all greasy and ewww,” Olive replied.

And with that, she had enough. She was about to turn and slap Olive on the face when a prefect walked up to her.

“Letter from your family. You have to see the headmaster after you read it,” the prefect said in a straight face, before walking off.

“Letter from your family? I bet they are disowning you for your ugliness. I guess they finally realized they took the wrong child home!” Olive said and stopped a few feet behind her.

Ignoring Olive, she quickly opened the letter and read. Once she was done, a heaviness started sinking within her soul.

“So, who died? If it’s your mother, she probably feels guilty for creating such a horrible child like you and killed herself,” Olive added, mercilessly.

Immediately, she burst into tears. Crumpling the letter in her hand, she ran. She ran till she reached the girls bathroom on the second floor, where she made her way to a cubicle at the far corner and locked herself in.

No, her mother did not die; she wouldn’t care if her mother did. But it was aunt; the only person in her family who actually cared about her, drowned. It was her aunt who never forgot her birthdays; her aunt who always wrote to her, and her aunt who was there to remind her that life was worth living. As her sobs got harder to control, all she wanted to do was take a bath, but she couldn’t. The pain was like a searing rod, burning the only good thing she had in life, and at that brief moment, she just wanted to die.

It was in that same moment, she remembered what her aunt told her, “Life may be a pain, but despite it, there’s so much more to gain.” Immediately, she remembered how her aunt lived her life, and even though she was a nobody, she probably lived it to the fullest. It was then that she decided she did not want to die, as she wanted to live on for her aunt.

And just as she made up her mind, she heard someone coming into the bathroom. Angry at the intrusion of her privacy, she decided to give that person a piece of her mind, but when she opened the cubicle door, all she saw was a pair of big, round, yellow eyes.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

Xion Academy For Boys

“Why do I have to go?” he asked.

“It’s your birthday present. Why wouldn’t you want to go?” his mother replied with a smile.

“But I like the school I’m going to now,” he said, ready to start whining.

“Don’t you dare start young man, Xion academy has better facilities. It’ll make you better and more ready when the time comes,” his father quickly joined in on the conversation.

“But I heard they will make me do things, things I dont want to do.”

“You need to toughen up boy. I’ve already pulled some strings to make sure you have a place in the 74th games.” His father then turned to him and looked him in the eye. “I paid a lot of money for this.”

Sighing, he nodded in reply. If his father had paid a lot of money, he should go and try to make his parents proud. And since he was finally thirteen, he told himself to start acting like a responsible adult.

The following day, he put on his new black and silver custom tailored suit. And before he entered the car, he shook his father’s hand, and gave his mother a kiss.

“We will see you during the weekends, O.K honey?” his mother said as she smiled broadly at him.

“Bye,” he replied, sliding into the backseat and waving at them as his driver drove further and further away from the gigantic mansion he called home.

Xion Academy was a one hour drive from home, in the heart of District 2. It was a huge school, with superb and detailed stonework, one of which he had not seen before.

As the car pulled up the driveway, a woman in black ushered him into the academy and led him straight to the headmaster’s office. After waiting briefly, a man walked into the room and took his seat.

“Before you start classes, we need to give you a test,” the headmaster, a balding middle-aged man, spoke.

“Sure. I’m ready. What do I have to do?” he asked confidently.

“Follow me,” the man said as he got up. Quickly following after him, he found himself walking along hallways and down staircases. By the time he reached a small room, he started to wonder how big the academy was.

As the headmaster pointed to a glass door in the marble walled room, he said, “Behind this door is an arena.”

“You want me to fight someone?” he asked excitedly.

“I want you to make sure that THAT someone doesn’t get up again.”

“What do you mean?”

“The person you are to face is a no good-er. You know what to do with these kind of people, don’t you?”

He finally understood what he had to do, but he still wasn’t sure. Was he being asked to kill someone?

“You want me to kill him?”

“There are nicer ways of putting it. Let’s just say we want you to terminate him. Good luck.” And with that, the headmaster left the room.

Unsure on what to do next, he slowly headed to the glass door and pushed it open. Taking a step into the big arena, he spotted his opponent.

His opponent was a tall, rather skinny man. His eyes were bloodshot red and when he turned to face him, he looked very ready for a fight.

Hesitating on his next move, he eyed the skinny man.Then taking a quick glance around the arena, he spotted weapons laying on the ground near him, and glass panels a storey higher, that made him sure he was being watched.

Straightening up, and putting on a brave face, he picked up two long blades and charged towards the man. To his surprise, the man didn’t charge back, but he ran instead. And being that he was younger and in better shape, he caught up with him and pounced onto his back, pinning the man on the ground immediately.

Then, as he placed his blades below the man’s throat, ready to slit him dry, the man pleaded, “Please boy, don’t do this. I have a son at home, just like you.”

For a brief moment, he hesitated. He thought about his father and his mother, and then he looked up at the glass panels. And as though he could see through it, he imagined the people in it nodding at him to finish the job.

“Please boy, you are not a killer,” the man said, trying to hold his head higher up, away from the blades.

“How do you know?” he asked with a laugh.

“Because… because…”

“Wrong answer,” he said as he pulled the blades across each other, slitting the man’s throat before he could finish his answer.

In all honestly, he didn’t want to hear what the man had to say. He was rather afraid of the truth, because all his life, he was told what to do and how to do it. He never knew who he really was, just that he was made to kill and to bring his family glory.

As he stood up from body of the man, lying in a pool of blood, he hoped that someone would reassure him that he was doing the right thing, and when the voice over the speaker spoke, he got what he had hoped for.

“I’m proud of you Cato.”

“Dad?” he asked immediately.

“Yes. And your mother is here too. Lets celebrate shall we?”

Smiling to himself, Cato didn’t care if all he knew was murder, because it made his parents proud.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

A Bag of Galleons

The first time he stepped into the large, gloomy looking manor, he knew he was about to have the worst life he could get, but he was not one to complain. He was brought up to do his job well and sounding empty gongs was something he never did, as he was after all, a house elf.

He first entered the wizarding world looking for a job to support his family. And though the elf community of which he came from told him that wizarding families treated all elves like slaves, he knew it was a sacrifice he had to make.

So, on the day his son was born, he told his wife he was going to meet with the Trader. The Trader was a man who dealt with all the magical creatures’ trades, whether it be mystical objects of magical creatures itself.

For elves, he would pay them 100 hundred galleons and give them a home to work in for the rest of their lives. It was a one time pay for a life time of work and hardship, but the elves knew what they were signing up for, and their loyal innate nature made them live up to their part of the deal.

Castel was like many of the elves who sought out the Trader and brought home the bag of galleons. A week later, he was called to meet the Trader at a small town near his community, where he was given paperwork to sign before he was told that he was going to meet his new master, and that the black car waiting outside the tavern was for him.

As he got into the car, Castel knew he was never going to see his family again, but he had a gut feeling that someday, he might meet his son. And though he could not be a father to his son, he knew he had provided enough for his wife and child to survive for a long time. He also secretly hoped that his son would not have to be a house elf like him, but his hope was merely a bubble waiting to be burst for a magical creature like him.

20 years later, Castel received a letter from his wife, which he had to sneak into a dusty old cupboard to read. It said on the letter that his son was going to look for him and bring him home. His wife mentioned that she did all she could to stop him but his son was as persistent as he was.

Partly proud that his son took after his determination, he knew that that determination was going to lead them into a spiral of problems, but it was out of his control. He could only hope that his son would never find him and that he would not cause a domino affect that would cost Castel a week of blistered fingers and toes.

Unfortunately, Castel underestimated the intelligence of his son, and found out from his fellow house elves that his young boy had met up with the Trader for information. And on that very same evening, Castel opened the front door of the Malfoy Manor to a young house elf with perky ears, in a well dressed suit, who smiling widely at him.

“How may I help you?” Castel asked, hoping it was not his son he was speaking to, even though he knew it was.

“I’m looking for my father, his name is Castel,” the young house elf replied.

“Dobby?” Castel asked softly, as he took quick glances around the front porch.

“Father?” Dobby replied excitedly, and a little too loudly.

“Hush now,” Castel said as he exited the house and led Dobby behind a large rose bush. “What are you doing here? You should go home!”

“I’m here to bring you home father,” Dobby replied, still with a smile on his face.

“I can’t go home, it’s not part of the deal. You have to leave Dobby, leave now!”

“But you’re getting old. You can’t keep working. Surely there’s a way to let you go home. I even have a bag of galleons to free you!”

“Money won’t free me Dobby, I can only go if my masters give me new clothing,” Castel explained, still in whispers.

“Then lets ask them!” Dobby replied, and immediately walked into the sight of a little boy.

“Hey! Elf! Who are you? You don’t work here,” the boy shouted as he ran over.

“I’m Dobby, Castel’s son. And you are?” Dobby asked the blond headed boy, who was around the age of 9.

“I’m Draco. Your father’s young master,” Draco replied slowly, emphasizing each word as he spoke.

“Well, I’m here to ask you then to let my father come home with me,” Dobby said boldly, as Castel failed to silence him in time.

“Castel is not going anywhere. Now, go fetch me a glass of orange juice, elf,” Draco ordered.

Castel was about to rush off to the kitchen when his son demanded, “You do not speak to my father like that. You have to show some respect!”

Draco merely laughed. He then gave Castel a hard kick in the stomach and when Dobby wanted to react using his magical abilities, Castel shouted, “Dobby, enough! No more of this nonsense!”

“But father-“

“You do not know how this works. Clearly you do not understand my part of the deal. Now please, leave. And don’t cause any more problems for me,” Castel said, as he looked away from his son. He was sure to put a hint of disappointment in his tone, but he started regretting doing so immediately.

“Problems? What problems?” A voice came from behind them that very moment, and Castel recognized the intentions behind it.

Still stubborn and determined to bring his father home, Dobby immediately replied, “The only problem is that my father is too old to work and I want him to come home.”

“Well, of course he can, if you would take his place,” Lucius Malfoy said with a smile so false that even a troll could tell that he was pulling a con, but Dobby however, was too ‘intelligent’ to even spot a con and agreed before Castel could even object.