Fan Fiction (Shorts)

Goblin Crusher

“The Goblin Crusher has done it again. Witnesses from Gringotts have claimed that Cornelius Fudge, our newly elected minister of magic, has been threatening the Goblins during his daily visits. Not only so, he was said to be seen throwing one over a cliff as a warning to the rest.

How far will Cornelius fudge go just to get his dirty hands on Gringotts? One can’t really tell. All we do know is that our beloved minister has no respect for other magical creatures, as he undermines their value….”

“Bloody rumours. They don’t know what they are writing about,” his assistant said as Cornelius Fudge threw The Quibbler into the fireplace.

“Sir, if-”

“I need some time alone, to think,” Cornelius said as he waved for his assistant to leave. His assistant nodded and left his side immediately.

“Goblin crusher. Couldn’t come up with a better name could they?” Cornelius scoffed.

As he took a seat by the fireplace, the sun was already slowly setting, casting hard shadows in his office. Its weak rays found a spot on the coffee table, where a draft of tomorrow’s Daily Prophet lay.

Its headlines read, ” Minister of Magic denies Goblin rumors” right above a picture of Cornelius Fudge in his best pressed suit.

“Our newly elected Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, denies the claims of his violent acts towards the Goblins at Gringotts Bank.

“The Quibbler, like many other non-commercialized newspapers, is only seeking attention once again. Spreading rumors has always been their forte, and it is our duty not to buy into such rumors, to keep the peace among our people,” says the minister of magic.”

By the time Cornelius had relived the day of which he gave that statement, his office was finally swallowed with darkness. But the flickering light from the dim fireplace failed to hide the satisfaction on his face. Once again, he knew he had done it. He was untouchable, no matter what those who were against him say or do.

But how, how did they manage to get such information of him? That was the question that kept bothering him. He had never failed to be discreet, and just as he was about to brush the thought aside, a memory slipped right onto the tip of his mind.

It had been raining for days, but Cornelius did not find it as an excuse not to pay his little friends a visit. He had been informed that a group of his wildly intelligent friends were gathering by a clearing in the forest, to discuss on how they could black mail him. And so before they could decided, he was going to barge in and offer them a solution.

Together with his trusted assistant, his wand, he stormed into the clearing. Rain pelted on his heated face, and when they saw him, they tried to scatter. But to his delight, they could not escape from his binding spells.

As he rounded their stiff bodies and assembled them in front of him, he asked one simple question, “Who’s in charge?”

But none of them dared to answer as they started breaking into cold sweat.

“Tell me, or I’ll drop him!” Cornelius ordered as he moved a goblin towards the edge of a cliff and hovered him in the air with his wand.

Only shivers and whimpers could be heard from the small crowd of drenched goblins.

“Fine,” Cornelius said as he pulled his wand away and a scream echoed the air.

“Who’s next?!” Cornelius asked.

Just when one of them was about to answer, he heard a crack. It was distinct even under the pouring rain. As he searched among the trees, he spotted a figure, running away from the scene.

His heart stopped briefly before he dashed after it. It was small and fast, but he could not make out what it was. When he finally came out of the forest into the nearby town, he knew he had lost it. He decided not to return to the goblins as leaving them there would teach them a lesson about treachery. But he kept his eye out, just in case he was still being watched.

Drenched coat and soaked hat, Cornelius hurried to a nearby tavern for shelter. Once he had ordered a warm glass of butterbeer, he spotted something rather peculiar.

A few tables away from him was a child, who held a copy of the Daily Prophet upright, but upside down. Dripping on the floor around her were the water from her cloak in which she was still wearing.

As he stood up, certain he had caught the figure who was spying on him, a familiar voiced called out to him.

“Minister! What are you doing here on a rainy day?”

Turning around only to find the annoying Xenophilus Lovegood, Cornelius quickly searched for the child again, but she was gone. The only thing left of her was the puddle of water under her seat.

The puddle of water was painted so clearly in his mind that he knew that child was The Quibbler’s informer. But who was that child? Pale with dirty blond hair. Immediately it struck him, it was Lovegood’s daughter.

“Why, that man would use his own child?!” Cornelius was rather surprise.

But was there really anything to be surprise off? It was time for Cornelius to keep an eye out, especially on the little girl who might have already known too much.

And boy, did he dislike being around children after that. Their sneaky little hands could steal everything he had worked so hard for. Perhaps Cornelius Fudge would deny this, but he possibly feared children more than Dementors.

(Bestsellerteen requested a story on Cornelius Fudge, you can request a story too in the comments below!)

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

She Died For Empty Promises

Sasha sat waiting. He was late again. How could a guy be late for every single date? And how did she managed to forgive him every time?

Yes, he was perfect, with dark hair and mysterious eyes, but his apologies were always so false. Sasha wondered how long she could keep going, being with a guy who never kept to his words. Empty promises was his middle name, Damon ‘Empty Promises’ Salvatore.

Sasha laughed to herself as she thought of his name. She’ll have to tell him his new name once he showed up. But when he did, he gave her no room to speak. He apologized, once again for being late, and told her he couldn’t go out that night.

“Why?” Sasha asked in frustration.

‘”Something came up,” Damon answered quickly, as though he was in a hurry to leave. “Look, I’m sorry. Another night ok love?”

“What? No,” Sasha was a on the verge of screaming at him. But when he locked his eyes on hers, she felt as though she could let this one slide; as though it didn’t really matter.

Damon, seeing the change of her expression gave her a kiss on the forehead and left. Sasha stood in place for a few minutes before realizing she had forgiven Mr. Empty Promises again. How did she do it? Sasha never knew.

Sasha walked home that night. The clear night sky twinkled with stars, and as the cool breeze brushed through her hair, she felt at peace. But peace was short-lived when she heard a scream.

The echoes of a young girl’s screams sent birds out of their nests. Sasha had to stop briefly, thinking if she should run or get help.

Get help. Sasha was determined. She was the girl who never left a kitten in a tree or let a freshman get bullied. She was the girl who stood up for those in need, and the girl she heard was indeed in need.

Sasha ran down the empty street, but to her surprise, no one was around. She decided to head to the police station when someone grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into an alley. For a brief moment, she thought she had just made herself a victim, but she was proven wrong when she saw that it was Damon.

“Go home now!” Damon ordered her.

“What is going on?” Sasha asked.

“It’s not safe. You have to go home.” Damon shook her by her shoulders, but Sasha was stubborn as a mule.

“Tell me what’s going on!” Sasha demanded.

Damon tried to lock his eyes on hers but Sasha looked away. Every time he did that, she somehow obeyed him. This time she wasn’t falling for it.

But before Damon could answer, someone spoke from behind her, “Found yours already?”

Damon didn’t respond and Sasha turned around to see who it was. The girl who spoke had dark hair and green eyes. And what stood out most, was the fangs. Sasha quickly stepped behind Damon, making him her human shield.

The girl narrowed her eyes at Damon. “Let her be, she’s of no trouble,” Damon said.

“How can we? She knows,” the girl said with a devilish smile.

Sasha watched as a few more others came to join them. They had lusting looks on their faces and, to no surprise, fangs. Yes, fangs. Sasha had to convince herself over and over again that she wasn’t dreaming.

“Is she your girlfriend Salvatore?” a boy with blond hair asked. “She smells tasty!”

“Leave her be, or i’ll snap your head off.” Damon held his ground as the human shield.

“Pretty boy protecting a human?” the blond boy mocked as he backed away.

Damon turned his head slightly and whispered, “When I say run, you run. Understand?”

“No, I’m not leaving without you,” Sasha replied, voice shaking in fear.

“If you don’t listen to me, you’ll die,” Damon said bluntly.

“Promise me then that I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sasha said, in fear that she would not see Damon again.

“I promise,” Damon said, squeezing her hand.

Sasha returned the squeeze and waited for his commands.

“I’ll say it again, leave her be, or i’ll kill you all,” Damon bravely said to the vampire pack.

But his bravery was met with laughter. “You’re wrong. We’ll kill you AND that bloody human!” The girl with green eyes laughed as she charged towards them.

“RUN!” Damon ordered and Sasha did as she was told.

Damon fought through the angry, blood thirsty vampire pack, paving a way for Sasha to run. When she had finally escaped the raging blood suckers, she made a big mistake. She stopped. She stopped and looked back. Damon was already buried under the pack, and when one of them saw her standing and watching, he charged at her.

There was no way she could out run him as he threw his body on top of her. Sasha struggled to free herself from his clutches as he pinned her down, but she was merely human. She watched as his fangs grew longer and before she could scream she was dead.

Damon was left in the alley as he slowly recovered from his wounds. But the wounds that could never heal was the ones in his heart.

Though it was hard to believe, Damon did love Sasha. She was the only girl who made him feel human enough. Human enough to love. But now that she was dead, he decided to stop believing in that word. Love became a fantasy and fantasies do not last.

Damon could not bring himself to look at her mangled body, nor could he cry as anger at himself and his kind slowly built up. They were savage beasts, not worthy of human emotions. Why must he ever feel again?

Retreating to the abandoned warehouse he stayed in, he knew it was time to leave this town. But he still had one more thing to do.

Damon took out his diary and wrote:

“August 5th 1980

She died. She died for empty promises. I won’t let that happen again.”

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

All The Better To Eat You With!

“Only a beast would act in such a disgusting way. Where’s your manners Greyback?!” he taunted the hairy looking man, who sat a table away from them, and had his face buried in a bowl as he ate his meal.

“Are you a dog? Do you like eating like that?” he continued.

“Stop it John! He’s a werewolf!” his wife said in a hush hush manner.

“It’s not a full moon honey, what can he do?” John asked casually as he ruffled his son’s hair.

Instantaneously, John got up from his seat and headed towards the hairy man. And to no surprise, a few men followed behind him.

“Your kind isn’t welcomed in this town. I suggest you pack your bags and leave once you’re done giving yourself a food facial.” John chuckled and the men behind him roared in false laughter.

It was then that Greyback stood up and shoved his table forward, sending the men stumbling backwards.

Greyback gave a low growl as he eyed one men to another, and when his eyes fell on the innocent young boy at the corner of a table, who was looking half terrified, a small smile crept across his greasy face.

It was a brief moment, but as the boy stared back into that man’s eyes, a shiver ran down his spine. The hairy man was eyeing him hungrily as though he was the main course, and the food he stuck his face into earlier was just the appetizer.

“What are you looking at?!” John shouted at Greyback when he noticed him staring at his son.

“Dinner,” his rough, deep voice, replied softly.

“You leave right now!” John bravely shoved Greyback, who was 2 times his size.

“Or what?” Greyback did not even flinch.

“We’ll have wolf meat for dinner!” a small, scrawny old man boldly answered, and as the crowd in the little tavern shouted in agreement, he didn’t look so small anymore.

As one by one the people stood up, Greyback chuckled to himself. And with a cynical grin, he left.

A few days after the werewolf left town, the young boy, who briefly made eye contact with the creature of the night, decided to believe his father’s promises that the hairy man would not return.

It was only then that he bravely ran out of his home to play with his friends in the forest nearby.

“Where have you been?” one of his friends asked.

“Yea! We’ve been wondering why you never showed yesterday, and the day before. We thought you were kidnapped!” another said, as he playfully jabbed him in the arm.

“I wasn’t kidnapped, I was just sick,” the boy lied.

“Ok! Now that you’re back, lets go!”

The three boys spent the entire day by a small river, getting themselves wet as they chased one another. Their playful shouts and laughter had sent all the birds away, including the sun later in the day.

“I have to go home now,” one of his friend said with a sigh.

“Go then,” the boy replied.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“No. I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” he answered shortly as he waved his friends goodbye.

He realized how stupid he was for fearing the hairy man. He had missed all the fun he could have had with his friends and now he forced himself to make up for it as he sat by a rock, taking in the nocturnal view of the forest.

The moon was finally up and the birds were back. It was peaceful enough for him to fall asleep right there and then. But when something made a loud suspicious snap, it turned the peaceful forest into a dangerous one.

“Who’s there?” he asked, as his eyes darted around.

“It’s me,” a rough deep voice spoke, hidden behind a tree.

“Who are you?”

A big shadow came looming over him as a man came out into the light.

“Remember me?”

The boy gulped. It felt as though he was in his worst nightmare, but he knew very well that he wasn’t. He didn’t bother taking a second to think as he started running.

As he made his way under branches and over roots, he could hear the man’s evil laughter behind him. He knew that if he stopped running, the man would grab him and eat him, and so he forced his short legs to keep moving.

When he finally saw street lights, he unknowingly stopped to take a breather. And that was when he heard something howl. The boy stared into the darkness, trying to see where the sound came from, and before he knew it, a beast came charging at him. It’s big, claw like hands, grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him into the air.

He tried to shake himself free but the ugly, hairy beast was too strong, and before his screams could escape his lungs, the beast bit into his thigh.

Morning came with the shrieking cry of a young girl that led the entire town to where the body of the boy lay. But to everyone’s surprise, he was still alive, barely surviving in his own pool of blood. The werewolf only bit his thigh, but the amount of blood he lost gave him 3 weeks at St. Mungo’s.

And though his parent’s were relieved that he was no longer missing or dead, they had another issue to worry about. What will happen to their son when the next full moon arrives? How will they stop their little Remus from turning into the creature that bit him?

Questions kept ringing in their heads as they watched their precious son sleep. Their only regret was the  memory of stepping out of line with a werewolf.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

The Hero Boy

Ms. Marisa was Roy’s favorite nanny. She only took care of him during the summer as during the rest of the  year, she was away at her school, studying magic.

Roy, being only 9, was already a big fan of magic, and even though he was not allowed a wand of his own, he always used his father’s old wand whenever Ms. Marisa was around.

The only reason why Roy never gave Ms. Marisa a hard time was not because she fed him candy or let him zoom around on his broom inside the house, it was because she loved teaching him magic.

Everything Ms. Marisa learned in school, she would teach him, and today, as Roy pointed his father’s old wand at his pet rabbit, a silver like string came floating out from its head.

“Did it work?” Roy asked as he watched his rabbit hop back to the water bowl and drank from it, which it had already done 30 seconds ago.

“Try it again,” Ms. Marissa said.

“Obliviate!” Roy said, as he gave his wand a slight twist at the rabbit. Once again, the poor rabbit drank from its bowl of water, completely oblivious to the fact that it had already done so early.

“Ob-“

“Wait! We don’t want your rabbit to get all bloated with water!” Ms. Marisa pulled the wand from Roy just in time.

“But, it didnt work!” Roy knew full well that it did. He just wanted to do the spell again.

“It did. And I’m going to teach you another, don’t you wanna learn another?” Ms. Marisa asked, seeing his frown.

A smile immediately crossed his face as he nodded his head vigorously.

“Well, this is a simple summoning spell. All you have to do is concentrate on something, for example that book on the table, and say accio book.” With a small tilt of the wand, the book came flying towards Ms. Marisa, and Roy couldn’t help but gasps in excitement.

“My turn, my turn!” Roy grabbed for his wand and tried. He tried and tried till he had managed to get the book to hover a few centimeters above the table.

“Clever boy!” Ms. Marisa patted him on the back.

Just when Roy was about to attempt at making the book go higher, a crashing sound, which came from downstairs, made both their heads turn to his bedroom door.

“Is your parents home? I don’t remember hearing the fireplace pop,” Ms. Marisa asked, in a tone unlike her usual.

Roy shrugged. He had not heard the fireplace pop either, and it was strange, because his parents always used the floo network from work to home.

“I’m going down to check.”

“No! Don’t leave me! What if it’s a bad wizard?!”

Ms. Marisa, who apparently did not hear him, exited his room and shut the door behind her.

Roy hurried to the door and pressed his right ear against it, trying to hear what was going on, but he heard nothing. Curious, he sneaked out of his room and tip toed down the staircase. It was then that he heard a loud crash followed by a thud that shook the ground beneath him.

“Ms. Marisa?!” Roy shouted.

“It’s o.k Roy. I knocked him out,” Ms. Marisa said proudly, under her shaking voice, as she came out from the kitchen.

“What happened? What did you do?” Roy quickly asked as he peeked into the kitchen doorway, spotting a huge man, sprawled unconscious on the ground.

“I knocked him out with some of your mother’s pots and pans.” Ms. Marisa laughed nervously at the thought.

“With accio spell?” Roy asked keenly.

“Yes. Now go be a dear and flame for the ministry.” Ms. Marisa pointed at the fireplace.

“Wait, what did that man want?”

“He wanted… erm.” Ms. Marisa paused and hesitated before she continued, “You.”

“Why?”

“Wanted gold from your parents Roy. Now you better flame for the ministry while I watch him.”

Roy nodded and headed to the fireplace. He threw some purple powder into the flames and as it turned yellow, Roy peered over and shouted, “Someone tried to kidnap me! You have to come now!”

A female face appeared in the flames and replied, “We’re right on our way Master Lockhart.”

Just then, a crazy idea flashed across his not so innocent mind. Roy reached for the wand he had tucked into his shirt earlier and pointed it at Ms. Marisa.

“What are you doing?” Ms. Marisa asked as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m sorry Ms. Marisa, but I have to do this,” Roy said, as he contemplated his plan.

“Do what?” Ms. Marisa chuckled, thinking Roy was just being playful.

“You’ll help everybody love me more,” Roy tried to explain.

“What are you talking about?” The expression on Ms. Marisa’s face had not change as she shook her head and laughed.

“Obliviate!” Roy shouted, and to his surprise, a silver string slowly floated out of her head. He expected the spell not to work, but it did.

As he happily watched a blank expression wipe across Ms. Marisa’s face, Roy cooked up a whole new story in which everyone, to his deepest satisfaction, believed to be the truth.

Roy was lonely and he wanted people to like him, to love him and to know him. His parents didnt have time for him and now that he was about to make the headlines as a hero who saved his nanny from an intruder, his parents would have to give him all their attention.

Roy was the hero boy, the boy whom every child wanted to be friends with and the boy whom every parent would want as a child. He was going to have it all.

True enough, he made the headlines on the Daily Prophet the next day, “Gilderoy Lockhart, the Hero Boy.” All that at what cost? A nanny who started loving him even more.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

His Only Way Out

BAM! His room door slammed open.

“Mother is calling you down for tea,” his older brother said, chuckling at the decorations in his room.

“Come on, you can’t possibly be competing we me Reggie,” his brother continued.

“There’s no competition. If you can put up your Gryffindor banners, why can’t I put up my Slytherin ones?” Reggie said as he jumped onto his bed, ready to place a huge green and silver banner on the wall.

His brother simply laughed and headed to his desk. “Don’t touch my things!” Reggie said immediately.

“Relax, I just find this scrapbook interesting.”

From the corner of his eye, Reggie watched his brother flipped the book open, and the playful smile on his face immediately disappeared.

“You can’t be serious. A scrapbook on him?!”

Reggie simply shrug as he finally got the banner to stick on the wall.

“You’re like a stalker you know that,” his brother added.

“I’m not stalking. It’s all over the newspapers. I just cut em’ out so I know where he is and what he’s doing. I even showed mother and-“

“Of course you showed mother. She’s stalking him too!” his brother interrupted. And the tone of his voice was in no joking manner.

“No she’s not. She says it’s good to know as much about him as possible, if I want to be a death eater one day.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still going about that death eater thing.” His brother shook his head.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Reggie asked.

“Because he kills people Reg. What’s wrong with you?!” His brother was angry again. He was always angry whenever they spoke of the Dark Lord.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Reggie spat as he yanked his scrapbook from under his brother’s hand.

“I’m just trying to help you understand Reg. Stop being so stupid!”

“I’m stupid? Well, if I’m stupid, then you’re dishonorable! Not only to our parents but to our entire family! If you keep this up, father will disown you.” Reggie was furious. How dare he call him stupid.

“I don’t care if I’m disowned! I don’t care if they burn my picture on our family tree!” His brother pointed at the embroidered family tree, on the wall across his room door. “I just don’t want to see my brother get hurt!”

“Don’t worry, I know how to take care of myself.” Reggie narrowed his eyes at his brother before he headed for his room door. He had enough. He didn’t want to argue with his brother who didn’t understand.

“Fine! But remember this, once you’re in, you cant get out. He’ll kill you if you try!” his brother shouted as Reggie stormed down the stairs.

Reggie was no longer in the mood for tea, but he wasn’t going to stay in the same room as his brother. What did his brother know anyway? He was a dishonor to their family, and a stupid Gryffindor on top of that.

Reggie was about to enter the living room when he heard another voice calling to him. It was not his brother’s, but it was familiar all together. Reggie stood on the spot, trying to figure out who it was. And when he did, he saw the house elf he always called friend, standing in front of him, in a blur.

“Master! Master! You must wake up!” the house elf shouted in fear, as the heads of the flesh-less inferi could be seen bobbing in the dark waters towards them.

“Kreacher,” he croaked, trying to sit up.

“Master Regulus! Let’s go!”

“What did I tell you Kreacher?!”

“But Kreacher can’t leave. Kreacher can’t leave master!” Kreacher had tears streaming from his big tennis ball like eyes, as he clutched onto the locket tightly.

“Kreacher, you must!”

“But master-“

“NO BUTS KREACHER!” Regulus took the house elf by the shoulders and shook him.

“Mas-mas-master,” Kreacher chocked as he sobbed.

“You have been a good friend Kreacher, but now, you have to be a good servant and leave. Do not let him find you and destroy that locket!” Regulus ordered.

“You have been a good friend too Master Regulus. And Kreacher will try,” Kreacher said with a firm nod. But before he left, he wrapped his arms around Regulus, and Regulus weakly returned it.

Moments later, there was a pop and he was alone. Alone on the island where he was sure he was going to die.

As the burning sensation in his chest started to rise to his throat, Regulus forced his weak body towards the edge of the man made island.

With his hands cupped, he hoped to have a last quench at thirst, but as he dipped his hands into the icy cold water, bony fingers grabbed onto his wrists and pulled him in.

Into the dark waters, he felt them wrap their skeletal bodies around him. The inferi weren’t strong, but they were many. As his vision plummeted into darkness, the last sensation of cold water down his throat was the sign of his impending death.

In was through the relief of pain that he remembered his brother’s words. He was right all along. And he should have listened. He was indeed stupid. How he wished he could turn back time and tell his eleven year old self to take heed of Sirius’ words. Now it’s too late. He was already in, and the only way out was through death.

(On life and stuff requested a story on Regulus Black, you can request yours too in the comments below!)

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

Dear Professor

“Where’s her letter?”  Alyssa Figg asked in a hush hush manner.

“We didn’t receive any,” Adrian, her husband, answered worriedly.

“What do you mean? It should have arrived by now!”

“I’ve checked the mail a hundred times, we didn’t receive any.” Adrian took a quick glance at the stack of mail on his work table.

“I don’t believe this. Sure, she might be slower than the other kids, but she’s one of us, she has our blood!” Alyssa began pacing up and down the small home office as she squeezed her palms together.

Arabella, who was peeking through the key hole of the room door, watched as her parents began discussing on what to do with her.

“What are we going to do? There’s nothing wrong with our daughter Adrian! They are mistaken!” Alyssa was now close to tears.

“I’ll send the school an owl tomorrow, maybe they are mistaken.”

“The school IS mistaken! She is not a squib! My daughter is not a squib!” Alyssa said with new found faith in her voice.

Arabella, who decided she had done enough spying for the night, tip toed back to her room. She was suppose to be asleep an hour ago, but when she had heard of her cousin receiving his letter earlier that day, she couldn’t stop thinking why she had not gotten hers. Now she knew.

She was a squib. Or at least, that was what her mother feared she was.

Arabella Doreen Figg was an ordinary girl, perhaps too ordinary. Unlike her cousins, she could not make funny things happen. She could not make flowers bloom when she felt happy, nor could she crack teapot sets when she was angry. Her cousins seem to be doing pretty well in that area, while she tried and failed every time.

But just like her mother, Arabella refused to accept the fact that she was not like her parents and cousins. She had convinced herself that the owl carrying her Hogwarts acceptance letter had died or lost its way. And if so, she should at least write to the headmaster of Hogwarts, to ask him to send another.

With that new goal in mind, she grabbed for a parchment and began writing.

“Dear Professor Scamander,

I would like to inform you that I have not received my Hogwarts acceptance letter. I am pretty sure the owl you sent have lost its way, or worse, died along its treacherous journey to my house.

If you could so kindly send me another, I would truly appreciate it.

Yours sincerely, Arabelle Doreen Figg. “

Once she had read her written letter ten times, she folded it up and slipped it into the nicest envelope she could find in her desk drawer.

Careful not to alert her parents, she sneaked into their living room and attached the letter to their tawny owl, which sat by an open window.

“Hogwarts ok?” she said to the owl in a whisper.

The owl hooted lazily and took off into the night sky. As she watched its silhouette disappear among the stars, Arabella was sure she would get an apology letter by tomorrow.

With her mind finally at peace, she went to bed and fell straight to sleep the moment her head hit her pillow.

True enough, when morning came, she found her parents staring at a Hogwarts letter in her father’s hand.

“What’s that? Is that my letter?” Arabella made a dash to her father, grabbing the letter from him.

Her parents smiled widely at her, they too could not believe what they had just received.

“Can I open it?” Arabella’s eyes glistened with excitement.

“Go ahead!” her mother said as she continued making breakfast with a smile she couldn’t wipe off her face.

Arabella ran to her room, shut the door and slumped on her bed staring at the letter in her hand.

“It’s finally here!” she squealed.

Slowly and carefully, she tore the envelope open. Her heart was racing like the orient express as she unfolded the letter and began to read.

“Dear Ms. Figg,

It is my deepest regret to inform you that you have not been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

We are sorry to say that your lack of magical abilities has made it hard for us to accept your entry.

I hope you have a nice day.

Yours truly, Professor Newton Scamander.”

Arabella read the letter again, and again, and again, hoping she had read wrongly. But she had not. She felt like crying, but she somehow knew she saw it coming. What could she do if she lacked magical abilities?

As she entered the living room, in which her parents were happily waiting for the good news, she placed the letter on a side table and confidently said, “I didn’t want to go there anyway.”

Striding out of the room, with her head held high, Arabella tried to shut out the voices of her angry and upset parents. It was bad enough being confirmed as a squib that she didn’t need to hear her parents’ distraught at her non-magical self.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she convinced herself yet another time. And as long as she could stay convinced, she never looked back.

Then again, the truth was never as harsh on her as it was on her parents. After all, she was only 11, barely understanding the vast difference between a magical life and a non-magical one.

(On life and stuff requested a story on Ms. Figg, you can request yours too in the comments below!)

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

Snow’s Princess

This year was the start of a new kind of fear. And it was not the fear he was used to feeling.

Ever so often, Coriolanus would come face to face with his mortal enemy, the fear of losing. But every time the elections came around, he tramples on the very account of fear with his power statements accompanied by the cheers and applause from the people of Panem.

But this year, this was the least of his problems. He was the vice president of Panem, and he had nothing else to fear but the reaping.

The reaping, for those who lived in The Capitol, was a celebration, as the Hunger Games was commonly addressed to as an extreme sport of glory. Coriolanus grew up with that idea in mind. And when he was a boy, he always longed to be chosen for the games. Unfortunately for him, he was never chosen.

And though this year’s reaping may seem no different to many people, but it was different for him. Because this year, his princess comes of age. His princess was now old enough to have her name placed in the reaping.

Oh, to think he would be a proud father to have his daughter be chosen, you are wrong.

You see, Coriolanus’ daughter was special. She was a small, frail, petite girl, who had to live most of her life in her bedroom, inhaling from an oxygen tank. The moment she came into his world was the moment her lungs started failing. And as much as he wanted a strong beautiful baby, he was presented with a dying child, who had miraculously managed to live up to the age of 12.

Over all these years, Coriolanus became the protective father. Constantly paying for a chance of a real life for his daughter. But no matter what he did, there was barely any hope of her leaving her room.

This year, she might be forced to.

How on earth was his daughter going to survive the games when she could barely breath?

Coriolanus pleaded for the President’s exception on his daughter, but the no exception rule was hammered into his head, nearly jeopardizing his status.

“No exceptions! Do you see me pulling my son’s name out of the reaping?” the President said.

“But sir, my daughter can’t even leave her room.”

“Then she would be better off dead, wouldn’t she?”

With that, Coriolanus had to bear the streaming tears and demands of his wife in which he could never meet.

“You’re just going to let her die?”

“No exceptions! We do not have a choice!”

The both of them had to accept the rules sooner or later.

Still, the dilemma remains. If his princess is called to be a tribute, what would he do?

With his head throbbing, there he stood on the platform, next to the President. It was a late afternoon and the crowd that had filled the stadium were already cheering.

Coriolanus watched closely as the President dug his hand into a bowl of glass balls. The deafening sound of the crowd made it harder for him to concentrate as the President pulled out a ball and handed it to him.

As he stared blankly into the ball and the digital name hovering inside, Coriolanus slowly read, “Jasmine…”

The crowd went silent as they waited for him to continue.

“Jasmine Snow.”

It was a long and painful moment of silence. There were murmurs from the crowd, as nobody knew how to react.

“Ah, brilliant! That would be interesting!” the President so cold-heartedly spoke.

“Wouldn’t it be now Coriolanus?” The President turned to him, signalling him to respond.

“Yes, indeed. I am a proud father,” Coriolanus lied.

With distinct pain in his voice, the crowd’s oblivion led to an eruption of cheers.

Yes, the people loved him for his bravery at sacrificing his child. But he didn’t love himself.

When he came home that night, Coriolanus sat by his sleeping daughter’s bed side, weeping and begging for forgiveness.

What kind of a father was he?

As he held on to her small hand, Coriolanus’ only wish was for a chance to take her place, but that was impossible. It was then that her eyelids fluttered, and her lips began to softly mutter.

“What is it princess?”

“Daddy…”

“Yes princess?” Coriolanus fought back the tears as he leaned closer.

“I’ll make you proud.”

Her words penetrated his heart like a stake to his soul.

“I know princess. Rest now,” Coriolanus choked on his drying throat.

His worst fear had won. He now knew what he had to do.

Once his daughter had fallen back to sleep, Coriolanus headed to his office to retrieve from his safe a metal box, in which he kept a collection of untraceable poisons.

Picking up a green bottle, Coriolanus filled a syringe and hurried back to his daughter’s side.

As he watched the heart rate monitor beep, careful not to have his eyes fall on his innocent, precious daughter, he slowly injected the poison into her system.The beeping monitor finally met its end after a few seconds. It was that easy. But bearing the crushing pain in his chest wasn’t.

She was gone. Her pain was gone. So were her worries and troubles. He was her father. And as much as it was killing him inside, he had to do what he had to do. He had to save her. And he did.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

For the Love of Cats

He was a cat lover. He owned too many cats to count, and if you were to name them each a number, you would probably lose count. And though many found him odd and peculiar, but she loved him just the same. She was his little mouse, small and short. She had brown hair and brown eyes and he loved her just the way she was.

Gabriel Selwyn was only 20 when he asked her to marry him. They had both graduated from Hogwarts a couple of years back and Gabriel could not wait any longer. How on earth could one stand not to marry the girl you love? And as he got on his knees, on that rainy Monday in his small apartment, she said yes.

They decided to have a little pink wedding. And since she was constantly on the look out for everything pink, Gabriel thought that this would be a good time to go pink crazy. It was madness, but romance kept them going, ignoring the annoying relatives and their disapproval for a whacked up looking wedding as they planned for perfection.

Despite it all, on that Sunday morning, the little pink canopy hovered over their heads as they said their vows. And the choir of meowing cats ended the ceremony with awkward expressions from the small crowd that was present. Though it was something many would choose to forget, but the both of them chose to cherish that memory as they each kept it in a bottle for safe keeping. Who knows when it might come in handy?

But who knew it would be sooner than a grey hair on their heads.

It was a quiet night when Gabriel left the house to fetch some milk.

They were running low on supply and some of the kittens were already cutely whining at their feet. It was then that Gabriel decided to make a quick dash to the nearby convenient store. She, on the other hand, was a little unsure as the night was at its fullest, with the rounded moon hovering above their little town.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I don’t have a wand with me,” Gabriel said as he placed a kiss on her forehead. But as he left, his wand sat on the kitchen table, untouched since morning.

As the clock hand moved from one number to another, she couldn’t help but feel something was not quite right. There was something odd about that night, and with a glance out of the window, she felt the bright round moon imprinting a sinking feeling inside her. But being fearful of leaving the house, she sat quietly by the fireplace, waiting for Gabriel’s return.

It was not until the morning sun rose that she rose from the couch she fell asleep on.

“Gabe? Honey? Are you home?” she asked. But her voice bounced off the walls with no reply.

Something was indeed wrong. And without hesitation, she hurried out onto the streets in search of her husband.

Down two lanes and into the small town center she went, calling out his name. At the convenient store, she asked the man at the counter, but he said he wasn’t open that night.

Panic stricken-ed, she kept going until the sun decided to set again. As she fell on her knees, sobbing in front of the small town hall, she knew he was gone.

But gone in what terms was she referring to, she didnt know. Would he have left her and all his cats? Was he murdered? Was he kidnapped? Had muggles discovered him and sent him to an asylum? Oh, how she hated muggles. That was probably what had happened.

But her theory was proven wrong when an wizard from the ministry of magic told her what truly happened.

It was a full moon last night, and a young werewolf attacked her dearest Gabe. He couldn’t fend for himself and was mauled by it. He died the moment it went for his neck. And she was “assured” that he did not suffer long. But that assurance did no assuring at all. That day, she drafted a piece of anti-werewolf legislation.

To think she was going to go whacked with her oddly cheerful behavior after the incident, one didn’t have to think twice. As she collected Gabriel’s cats and have them each painted onto plates, she reminded herself that her husband died because order and law was not enforced. Hence the day she forced herself up the corporate ladder, to make her Gabe proud and to prove that great things come in small pink packages.

Today, you may hate Dolores Umbridge for what she has done. But a person does not act out of ignorance. There is always a back story somewhere.

So for the love of cats, the next time you find Peeves hanging your undergarments on a Quidditch pole, or see Filch talking to Mrs. Norris in an inappropriate intimate way, there is probably a back story somewhere. PROBABLY.

(On a side note, I would also like to know what other HP characters would you like to read about? Leave a comment below, and I’ll see what I can come up with!)

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

The Raven with Broken Wings

Her swan floated in the air, dancing slowly as it faded. And as it finally disappeared, she tried again, trying to gather the happy memories she had with him. But as she whispered, “Expecto Patronum” nothing happened.

She finally placed her wand down on the bathroom floor. The bathroom had been her hideout for the past few days. It was where she could be alone. It was where she didn’t have to face everyone and their attempts to make her feel better.

As she stared at an empty wall, imagination was magic itself. On the plain brown wall, she imagined how it would be like to still have him around. She could see his smile, and how he naughtily narrowed his eyebrows at her. She could feel his touch as he kissed the top of her hand. She could hear his voice as he whispered sweet things into her ears. These were all memories, memories that made the tears fall once again.

She missed him so much. She missed talking to him, and telling him how the day’s classes had been. She missed practicing Quidditch with him, and how he would always let her win even though he constantly denied doing so. She wished he was here right now, holding her hand and telling her that everything that had happened was just a horrible nightmare. If only he could tell her he was never leaving her.

Gripping on to the raven pendant he had given her on her birthday, she recalled the day he sneaked her out of her common room to the astrology tower.

“Where are we going?” she asked softly as they ran down the empty hallway after hours.

“You’ll see.” He smiled.

“We’re breaking the rules! And you’re a prefect, if we get caught-“

“I’ll make sure we WONT get caught.” He playfully grinned as he led her up a flight of steps.

At the top of the astrology tower, he had already magically conjured pillows, blankets, and everything she considered soft, in shades of light blue, her favorite color. As he slumped into them laughing, he patted for her to take a seat next to him.

“Is this allowed?” she asked worriedly.

“I don’t think so, but i don’t really care, do you?” He gave another boyish grin.

After a few seconds of hesitation, she finally took a seat next to him. And a few minutes later, she could hear the school clock chime loudly. She had almost forgotten what the day was until he reminded her.

“Happy birthday beautiful,” he said as he pulled out a small box.

“You remembered?” She was rather surprised. They hadn’t been dating for long, but that moment felt as though they had been.

“I always did,'” he said while he slowly opened the box and took out a raven pendant.

Gently placing it on her palm he swished his wand, and silver chain hooked itself onto it.

“Do you want me to put it on for you?”

Still staring at the pendant, she smiled and nodded.

And just as he did, she turned and wrapped her arms around him.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.

“Anything for your beautiful eyes,”

“Just my eyes?” She pulled away, playfully pretending to be offended.

“The eyes are the windows into the soul, no?”

She shook her head as she blushed. He was a smart one.

That night with him was a memory she would never forget. It felt just like last night, but she knew she was here alone last night, and the night before. Because he was gone.

Never again will he cheekily wink at her in the great hall. Never again will she see a future with him. All she had was memories of what they had, and dreams of what they could have. It wasn’t just his absence that made things so hard, it was the fact that kept ringing in her heart that he was dead.

More tears fell as her heart broke further. She couldn’t be fixed. She was like a bird with broken wings. He was the one that helped her fly. He inspired her to be the best. He had never given up on her. Without him, how could she brave the skies?

“Please come back,” she sobbed.

Pease help me fly again Ced, Cho thought as she pulled her knees to her body and wept.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

Not My Brother

People always told him that when you are a breath away from death, your life flashes before your eyes. But he never knew that it could happen when he blacked out.

It was as though his life was rewinding backwards, like a broken tape. George thought he was probably dreaming as death scared him a little. He patiently waited for it to end when it stopped at a point of his life he barely remembered. It stopped when he pulled his first prank.

George was 8. He had just finished a toffee he struggled to give a name to. Its effects? Well, George wouldn’t say, but he would rather show.

That morning, he headed down to the kitchen for a late breakfast. And hidden in his small palm was the specially made toffee. He was hoping to try it on one of his brothers, and the one who so willingly sat at the kitchen table was Percy.

“Percy, you want candy?” George asked as he climbed onto the chair next to him.

“What candy?” Percy asked skeptically as he eyed his brother.

George stuck out his hand and Percy shook his head.

“Come on, i had too much last night and i didn’t want it to go to waste. AND mother said never to give Ron ANY candy.” George tried to coax his brother into taking it.

“Fine, but don’t tell mother. We’re not suppose to have candy before lunch,” Percy, the goody-two-shoes, said as he popped it in his mouth.

George waited and watched his brother closely, waiting to see if it worked. And just before his brother could spit the toffee out, out of suspicion, his tongue swelled up and plopped out from his mouth.

“Ugh!” George said as he laughed.

“Wha-di-do-do-do-may?!” Percy tried so hard to ask.

George, who was rather proud, was about to explain when his mother walked in. And what she saw didn’t make her happy at all.

“George Weasley! What did you do now?!” Molly Weasley’s voice echoed through the kitchen.

Not knowing how to answer his very angry mother, George ran. He ran around the table just to slow his mother down before dashing out the back door.

It was a beautiful day, but his yelling mother who was chasing him made it rather hard for him to admire the clear blue sky, which was what Fred was doing when he ran into him.

“Look at the sky, George. I think I see a dragon,” Fred said when he saw his brother.

“Mother. Is. Going. To. Kill. Me,” George said as he gasped for air.

Fred turned to look at the woman who was running towards them and he nudged his brother, “Run!”

They ran down the meadow as fast as they could.

“What did you do?!” Fred shouted.

“I gave Percy a HUGE tongue!” George shouted in reply.

“So it worked?!” Fred asked turning around to see their mother catching up.

“YES!” George laughed as he answered. “Is she catching up?!” George was too afraid to look.

“Yes! Hide! I’ll handle her,” Fred said as he pushed his brother towards a big rock.

When Molly finally caught up with one of her sons, she sternly placed her hands on her waist, inhaling deeply as she tried to catch her breath.

“Where is your brother Fred?!” Molly yelled.

Fred, who was standing in plain view, shrugged.

“Where is he?! You tell me now or i’ll…” Molly attempted to threaten the 8 year-old who didn’t even flinch.

“It’s not Fred’s fault,” Fred said.

“What are you talking about, Fred?”

“I’m not Fred, I’m George,” Fred confidently answered. And Molly was left wondering. Did she mistaken her sons again?

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” Fred quickly apologize.

“Well, that doesn’t mean you can get away with it! You’re doing the dishes tonight, and you’re grounded for the whole week,” Molly said so sternly that Fred didn’t dare talk back.

“No more play time, you’re coming back to the house to help me with lunch,” Molly ordered.

“But mother…”

“Not BUTS!” Molly said as she pinched Fred on his ear and dragged him along. “Ow! That hurts!” Fred moaned all the way back to their house.

When the coast was clear, George came out from behind the rock. He felt rather bad for letting his brother take the blame, but what were twin brothers for?

The memory started to blur and George slowly came back to the present day. He wondered what had just happened, and why it happened now, when the death eaters were attacking. But as he ran to find his brother, he saw Percy, fist clenched and eyes wet.

“Percy,” George called, but Percy stormed pass him.

He immediately knew something was not right. And when he saw Fred, hidden in a wall niche, not moving, George had a very bad feeling.

“Fred?” George choked as he hurried to his brother. “No.” Tears welled up in his eyes as he touched his brother’s chest. It was not moving. “No.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Not my brother. Please.”

As the sobs became uncontrollable, one memory remained. The brother who was willing to take the blame for him was dead. Where was he when he needed him? His tears would not stop falling because through thick and thin, through ups and downs, they were always together. Today, death separated them. Forever.