Prompt for @hpwritersnet: Minerva Mcgonagall

Minerva Mcgonagall was nervous.

She didn’t show it, of course, keeping her spine straight and her expression neutral. Her father, a pastor, had taught her at least that much: when you’re a flurry of emotions, keep the storm inside until later, and let your best face show. Minerva didn’t know how well this had worked for her father, seeing as she hadn’t attended church for some odd ten years out of her eleven.  But it seemed sound advice. So she kept the nervousness inside her as she listened to the giggles and whispers of her Hogwarts class. More than a few had made quite a few friends on the train and were eager to share their thoughts and fears for the sorting ahead with their peers.

But Minerva, or Minnie, as she liked to be called, had only made a single friend on the train ride–if he could even be called that. He had already gone up at the sound of his name (which was rather whimsical, Minerva thought, though her own name had caused quite the stir up in Scotland). A tattered hat had been perched atop his head for five long minutes before it roared a hearty “Ravenclaw!” and sent him to his appropriate table. She was happy for him; Filius Flitwick hadn’t wanted much, but he had wanted blue and bronze for house colors.

Keep reading

karkaroff:

residentpotter:

thecw4kids:

ghost in the house: GET OUT. I WILL TAKE YOU-

real estate agent: chill, its me.

ghost: oh hey. have you sold it yet.

real estate agent: obviously NOT, idiot.

@thecw4kids I..hope you’re chill with me writing this…because I was really bored and doing physics and I needed a BREAK, guys. also because @jamesstruttingpotter‘s tags were “WRITE THIS” and whatever the lady wants, honestly.

Also: my friend @bookwrms wrote this with me, she’s just begun to reuse tumblr so go check her out - thanks love 💙💙💙

Cursing tw and pda (kissing), but that’s it.

---

- November 1st -

Luana sighed, and heaved at the great mahogany doors. They swung open with a magnificent screech and she winced, looking over her shoulder into the quiet neighborhood. She stepped inside the mansion and reached out - and then she remembered there wasn’t a light switch. She stalked forward and clapped once. Brilliant lights flickered on, adorning the tall, ornately decorated walls. Luana took no note of this and marched on to the main staircase, her dark blue heels clacking on the tile floor.

“Spirit of Maribel,” she droned, murmuring the same old chant from weeks past.  “I summon thee to guard thy home. I bring you offerings and ask for your blessing in my entrance.”

“ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! GET OUT! I WILL THROW YOU FROM MY HOME! HOW DARE YE ADDRESS ME BY THAT FOUL NAME! I WILL, WHAT IS THY TERM, SQUARE UP! I WILL-”

“Chill, Mari. It’s just me. No need to panic,” Luana grumbled. The spirit looked no more than twenty, but it was hard to tell of her physical features. She was nearly transparent, but her high cheekbones and wide eyes were clearly visible. She looked regal, but the minute she opened her mouth, she was comparable to a two year old.

Mari floated towards Luana, and if spirits could glare, she would. As Luana impatiently tapped her foot, the spirit muttered, “Oh, hello. Um..oh right! Ye have my highest blessing, o mortal. Anyway. Have you sold the house yet?”

“Obviously not, idiot. With you around..” Luana trailed off. It did no good to provoke Mari, as her face would turn an ugly shade of red. Luana felt no need to dredge up the painful wounds of their first meeting.

Mari, however, seemed to take no notice, and continued: “Well..it’s my birthday today, and FOR my birthday, will you finally tell me which girl you’ve been dating?”

Luana choked. “Girl? I mean–dating? Me? What? Happy birthday?”

Mari laughed. “Yes, girl. No girl wears floral AND flannel that often without being a lil gay…besides. You make enough sexuality jokes to make it completely obvious. And thank you! Telling me who they are would make a great present, though.”

Luana digested what she had just heard, and then allowed herself to laugh. “You’re right. I do make it kind of obvious, but I’m not dating anyone right now. I…I’ve been going out to places, but.” She glanced down, and back at Mari, who had a kind smile. “They haven’t been going anywhere, really. But Mari, I only started talking to you a couple weeks ago after I wasn’t scared of you even though you scared off everyone else and I know you’re a ghost and you’re tied to this place, so you can’t really go anywhere, but would you mind not talking to your underworld friends about this….” Luana jabbed a finger towards the hardwood floors, attempting to ignore the heat crawling up her cheeks.

Mari looked at her incredulously. “I might be talkative, but don’t worry, babe. I’ve got your back. Well…I don’t…but in spirit. HA! In spirit? Get it?”

Luana just stared at her. Mari stared back. After a few moments of intense and uncomfortable staring, Luana broke eye contact. “Yeah, yeah…very funny. But thank you anyway. I have to go..inspect your home now anyway. Licensing and stuff?”

Mari waved her on. “Yeah, go ahead,” she sighed. “You’re allowed to go anywhere here.”

- December 31 -

Luana brushed off the dust bunnies that had floated onto her jeans as she swung the doors open. She repeated her weekly summon of Mari, and only managed a slight quirk of the lips to pass as a smile when the spirit appeared.

“Hello, Luana. How is Emmeline? I hope the two of you are doing well?”

“She broke up with me, actually. I was wondering if we could…not sit and talk, but just have a normal day without mentioning any of the sales business and all that?”

“Of course,” Mari responded immediately. Her features were concerned as she flew down next to Luana, who was sitting on the steps of the stairs. She hovered next to Luana like a tiny beam of warmth. In any case, the proximity eased Luana’s discomfort.

Luana’s lips lifted the tiniest bit. “Anyway, Mari, how’s Christmas been going in your world? Any drama?”

Mari’s face stretched into a wide grin. “None at all! Some of the ghouls were a little bit drunk, but no surprise there. The skeletons were a little annoyed about not getting much attention, but hey, it’s not Halloween anymore. I guess they haven’t gotten the memo. Whatever.”

Luana snickered, and looked at Mari’s face, which was alight with happiness.“I thought ghouls couldn’t get drunk?” she asked.

“Of course they can. If you have the right alcohol,” Mari replied cheekily.

They spent the rest of the night laughing and talking and tearing up about their personal lives and reminiscing about the days they were terrified of each other. Luana knew she would regret it a little the next morning, but she knew her family would understand she needed time alone. But she wasn’t alone.

Just then, a bell chimed in the distance. She heard the distant boom of fireworks and looked at Mari.

“I should really get going…I’m sorry..have a good New Year’s, Mari.”

Mari reached out, and seemed to remember she couldn’t touch Luana. Luana headed towards the door, and Mari said, “Have a wonderful New Year’s, Luana. I’ll see you soon, love.”

Luana whirled around, desperately looking for Mari, but she realized Mari had left. With a sigh, she stepped out into the chilly air and almost forgot what happened.

- February 1 -

Luana took off her coat and unwrapped her box of chocolates as she recited the summoning. It was February, and February automatically meant chocolates and Valentine’s Day and cold.

“Hey, Luana.” Mari materialized, and her gaze fell onto the chocolates. “Ayyy, who is it? Who’s the lucky one?”

“No one. I just like chocolate.” Luana replied, biting her lip. Mari grinned.

“Girl, I heard the most hilarious story from a skeleton the other day. Do you wanna hear–”

“Yeah, sure. Um…listen, Mari…I need a favor.”

Mari’s eyes lit up. “Anything. What do you need?”

“Can a friend stay here with you? Drama happened, and, well, she’s kind of stuck.” Luana unwrapped a chocolate and popped it in her mouth. “I don’t really want to ask, but you’re the best person I know.”

“I’d do it for you in a heartbeat. Not a human one, necessarily, since they’re so slow, but a heartbeat.” Luana snickered. Mari drifted towards her. “Who is it, though?”

“Um…Emmeline?” Luana shrugged, and Mari crossed her arms. “Sorry?”

“That girl hurt you!”

“And her landlord kicked her out!”

“And you’re really her last resort? I’m her only option? Luana, do you really want to get mixed up in this again? Do you want to get me mixed up in it?”

“No! But…she needs me.”

“She needed you when she dumped you, too, I’m sure.”

“She’s in the car. I’m sorry, Mari. You can still refuse if you want.” Luana’s eyes were dewy and hopeful.

“I mean…” Mari looked anywhere but Luana. “I guess I’ll do it.”

Luana grabbed her phone. “Oh my god, thank you. I’ll text her to come in right now.”

“Got it. Okay.” Mari looked down at the floor. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

Luana sighed and smiled. “She’s not that bad. Trust me.”

A minute later, the door swung open, and a pale-skinned brunette girl in a pink parka stomped in. “Hey, Lu. Thanks for lending me your place for a couple nights. I really appreciate it.”

Luana glanced back at Mari, who was looking at the floor. “You knew I would, Emmeline. Glad to help.”

Mari snorted.

“Mari. Please,” Luana hissed. “She’s close.”

Emmeline flipped a strand of dark hair over her shoulder. “Close as two peas in a pod, Luana and I.” She peered up at the spirit. “You’re a ghost, huh?”

Mari smiled, her teeth clenched. “I prefer the term spirit.”

Emmeline rolled her eyes. “And I’d prefer to be Angelina Jolie. But I’m a deadend actress without an apartment to stay in and any auditions coming up. What’s the plan, stan?”

“Your room will be down that hall, then up the stairs, and after that you take a right and that’s your room,” Luana instructed. Emmeline set off almost immediately, muttering a conciliatory “thanks” as she set up the stairs.

“She’s annoying.”

“So am I. So are you.”

“She’s loud. I don’t like loud people.”

“You agreed to this, Mari!”

“Yeah, I did.” Mari glanced towards the stairs. “And I’ll go through with this. But only for you.”

- February 13 -

Luana was worried. Incredibly worried, because she had been keeping a secret for so long she would almost burst. Today was Friday the 13th, a holiday to Mari, and hopefully Luana could make her day.

She stepped inside Mari’s home and immediately felt something was off.

“Mari?” Luana called. “Where are you?”

She sat at their favorite meeting place, the steps, and waited. And waited. And waited. Until her eyes started to droop and her head started to nod…

She felt a shiver and opened her eyes. Mari was looking over her. “You fell asleep.”

“I did. I’m sorry.” Luana rubbed her eyes. “How’s it going?”

“Better, now that she’s gone.” Mari looked at the floor. “You’ve summoned me, you can go and find her now. I’ve got things in the underworld to do.”

“Mari–”

“It’s a holiday, you know. There are events planned. Things I could be doing that are much better than this.”

“Mari, I–”

“Do you even care anymore? Am I just some weird girl you come and talk to because you’re bored or upset? Am I some cheap therapist?”

“Mari–”

“Shut up! Please, love, just shut up! You invited a human who hurt you into my space and back into your heart. What’s wrong with you? Do you care about me, about you, about anyone but that stupid wannabe K-Pop star? I think–”

“Yes, Mari! I do! I really do! That’s why I’ve talked to you about more than that basic crap! That’s why I invited Emmeline here! That’s why I bought the damn house!”

The air was still. Luana’s eyes were wet. Mari hugged herself.

“You. Did. What?”

“I bought–” Luana sucked in a breath– “the house. I bought the house. If you didn’t want me to, though, I can go and talk to the bank. The deal isn’t finalized yet, though I did speed it along.”

“Why. Why did you do it.”

“Why do you think I did it?”

“I don’t know, status? Emmeline liked it so much that you two decided to buy it together?”

“Emmeline? What would Emmeline have to do with this?”

“You’re back together. I’m not an idiot. I saw that box of chocolates. I saw the way you two talked together.” Mari’s face was a bright shade of red. “Why won’t you just say it!”

“She needed a place to stay, and I was planning for the move here. We are not together. Never again.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Luana looked at the floor. A minute passed. Then another. “I love you, Mari.”

“You–you what?” Mari’s voice sounded high, like a violin on E string. “You love me?”

“Yeah, I do, but that’s probably a wasted confession if you’re just gonna stand there all starry eyed.” Luana shrugged. “Am I that stupid?”

“No. No, you’re not.” A smile lit up the spirit’s face. “Because I love you too, Luana.”

- April 1st -

Luana pushed open the doors and grinned excitedly when no screech could be heard. Ever since she had bought the house, Luana had started to clean up what she could with the help of Mari’s skeleton friends. Standing inside the doorway, Luana admired the fruits of her labor.

“Hey, love. That meeting ended early.”

Luana shrieked and sputtered. “I didn’t even summon you! How in the world…Mari, why the hell are you not transparent?”

Mari smirked. “I’m turning human, Luana. Apparently I’m re-entering the mortal world or something. It’s like the opposite of dying. I think. I can still float if I want to, but I’m solid and huggable and other than that… I don’t really understand the details, but uh, surprise!”

Luana slowly recovered from her shock and asked sheepishly, “Is it…is it because of me?”

Mari laughed and Luana flipped her off. Grinning, Mari replied, “Who else would it be, the Grinch? I can assure you he’s not my type, especially since you’re right in front of me, love.”

Luana swatted at her, and then gasped when she realized they both could feel it now. The touch sent sparks running up Luana’s skin. Stepping closer, Luana looked down at Mari’s petite form and heard their breathing quicken and turn uneven.

The kiss was slow yet fervent as the two savored the sensation of their heartbeats racing and throbbing as one. Luana smiled into Mari’s soft lips and sighed when she realized she could finally press her lover’s body to hers.  Mari lifted her fingers and cupped Luana’s flushed face. Luana and Mari stayed like that, holding each other. Wrapped up together, the two could not remember a more blissful moment.

They were happy for the rest of their days.

Loved doing this with you!

Prompt by the @hpwritersnet

Every time James had asked her to go on a date with him, it had been big and dramatic, like standing atop the astronomy tower or hiring an elf to follow her around on Valentine’s Day and sing couplets about her eyes that he said he loved to get lost in. 

That was why Lily asked him to marry her when it was quiet and lilac was painting the Cokeworth evening a shade of sweet calm. That was why she did it before he could, with both of them staring at the sky, their hair tangled together on their blanket like ashes and flames. She was not his eleven year old conquest. She was the girl who read Jane Austen novels and paired sundresses with leather jackets and maybe, just maybe, had written a few couplets about her boyfriend’s messy hair and the way he made her smile and laugh before she even realized that she was doing it. The James and Lily of childhood were long gone, and they were now entirely different, entirely beautiful people that made each other better, that spelled out an equal sign with their souls.


She never wanted them to change. 

Question one out of infinity: 

how would you describe us?

first things first, the earth calls to both of us,
so we call to each other,
through chats and tumblr messages and video chats that crackle images.
i don’t remember when it started,
only that i don’t think it will ever stop.

second things second, the sky burns blue when lunchtime calls us out to prison-like parking lots
where we talk on grass that is too friendly with the sun–about everything and nothing.
you already knew the weather was going to happen like this, i know,
because your house is only a short escape from our school,
and you predict the way the sky looks.
you predict a lot of things, and think about a lot of things, and tell me about them late at night when you should be asleep.

third, new york.
bustling city streets and lights and cannolis and street music as we race through subways.
our arms are linked as we get pizza for one dollar per each massive slice,
and are the first people awake in our room 
because we know the meaning of time.
we watch the skyline from the highline
and make plans to go back to it.
one day, some day;
it’s a promise i intend to keep even though the miles stretch between us too fast and too far.

four. our eyes met across the room and we saved each other from certain parts of group projects.
still, aggressive emails are sent by she-who-must-not-be-named and i end up crying in the bathroom because i am too much, too much.
you are the only one there, the only voice of reason and the only one who hands me paper towels so the tears can catch on something other than the dirty tiles. 
you, as always, are the voice of reason.
i would rather have no one else to fall upon.

five. we hug each other in the hallways because our schedules forsook us.
sometimes, in newer, stranger places, i imagine it and miss it.
(and miss you.
you are amethyst, remember? you shine and hold everything in place.
and yet your hugs are better than that of any rock, metaphorical or otherwise.)

six. you are going to be president. this is a fact, since we were even shorter than we are now and onwards.
i explain this to new people here that say otherwise, even though they don’t know you: you don’t know adiba. she’s committed and passionate and honest and organized and a leader. she is human, and she has flaws, but there is no way that she will not be standing up on that podium and being innaugurated one day. she will make a mark on the world no matter what she does.
i know it better than i know the words, and they have been familiar to me for longer than i can possibly say.

seven, for the seventh year we spend together:
i’ve read that it takes three, four years to get to know someone completely
and maybe this is why i depend upon you more than myself and tell you everything.
because these six years that i’ve known you
have been much better than the ones that i haven’t
because of you. 

i might have lost the timeline, 
and i might have skipped some time,
but that is what happens when forever occurs.

Your fingers sometimes shake on the keyboard. Your eyes sometimes burn with the lights of the screens you’re addicted to, tapping out words and exclamation points! and enthusiasm. You are the sun. You are a writer. But, like the twenty Google docs that scream UNFINISHED at you every time you look at them, you are a work in progress. 

You improve, trying to channel an inner drive that sings words into something better than what they should be. Your eyes become scalpels, precise instruments of death to unnecessary words. You shape yourself like a master carver, shape your words like an artist. 

Sometimes, though, you get scared to log into email, to one of the four writing websites you’re committed to, to Tumblr. You know what’s waiting for you, and it always turns your mouth dry when you see it.

Another rejection.

Literary, network, a critique that borders a bit too rude–what does it matter? Don’t they know that you are trying? That you can’t breathe without people and stories and that sometimes you mask your disappointment in feigned ignorance and laughter? 

Don’t they know what it feels like to be unwanted?

You don’t know what you did wrong. You don’t know what you did wrong. Yes, there is a run-on sentence here. A colon that came out as a semicolon. You can understand most things, the way your plot is like a twisted tree branch and has rough spots like bark. But when it comes to conveying more than people on a page who are sometimes you and sometimes not, sometimes you lose the right words and are left people-less in the dark, alone. And you don’t understand why you’re not tall enough to turn on the light yourself.

You are the rejected. You are the unwanted. And you better get better or get gone, gone, gone.

Actors are pretty liars, I say as I paint my lips and get into costume, and that is why I’ve been lying to you this whole time.

Even though I never told you that except in my mind, because I am still a liar.

Untruths untangle themselves from the mess of my mind and create a barricade to my heart, and you shattered it through like a clean stroke from a lightsaber. The swift slice of your silence as you didn’t call, didn’t text, and I forgot to pick up the phone. Haven’t we always been like this? Haven’t our eyes, blue with brutality, always shattered each other’s souls?

But we are art, and art makes you feel something. And that is why words are still dripping from my pen even when our relationship has lost blood like a pen loses ink. Losing, losing, lost.

In my mind, you are probably both meaner and kinder than you really are. You say you like my singing voice, over and over, a broken record, as sleep slips from my fingertips. Your shoulder is where my head goes when the thoughts inside it are too heavy to hold without support, your laughter light when the day ends in darkness and I need to see.

The truth is that you are human, and you burn cold like the stars while your fingers burn hot from drawing, sketching mango-shaped heads and dazzling eyes that are too pretty to be human.

(like you, that one time the classroom lights were dim and you was a galaxy and I felt something like the possibility of a kiss for less than a second)

But I am an actor. I live in untruths and pretty lies, and the fact that you might miss me is nothing more than closed curtains before a show begins. I see nothing but a lie, and I see nothing but your eyes when I miss you and your warm arms around my shoulder in the shape of friendship.

I am an actor, and I keep playing this role in my mind long after the show has closed.

– i don’t want to miss you II @bookwrms

Compiled here is a series of my most notable memories relating to the Triwizard Tournament in 1994-1994. You may noticed that these are written in present tense. The reason for this is that they are adapted from several journals, interviews, and memories of the time, and so may deviate slightly from fact.

Keep reading